


Inquisition Allsorts

by katling



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, The Chargers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 64
Words: 97,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katling/pseuds/katling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of fics from various playthroughs (mostly unfinished playthroughs). Basically just little scenes that came to mind as I played and I wrote down. A lot of it is very headcanony.</p><p>Pairings and other information will be included in the titles and chapter summaries but as the title suggests this will have a bit of anything and everything.</p><p>Note: Additions will be noted at the top of the index in chapter 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Index

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to add an index to make it easier to see what's in here and when something new has been added.

  


**Added September 8**  
**Chapter 64 - Fever - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus**

 

[Chapter 2 - Masks - Male Mage Adaar/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/7748300)  
[Chapter 3 - Don't Tie Me Up - Female Mage Adaar/The Iron Bull](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/7748360)  
[Chapter 4 - Shave Me - Male Warrior Adaar/Cassandra Pentaghast](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/7748396)  
[Chapter 5 - Home - Female Warrior Warden Cousland/Warden Alistair Theirin, implied Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/7748459)  
[Chapter 6 - I'm Too Old For This - Male Mage Trevelyan](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/7748522)  
[Chapter 7 - This Is Justice - Female Mage Hawke/Fenris, Male Rogue Lavellan/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/7757729)  
[Chapter 8 - Pretty Men - Male Mage Trevelyan](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/7761851) (Sequel to Chapter 5)  
[Chapter 9 - Attached - Unrequited Male Warrior Trevelyan/Cullen Rutherford](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/7775954)  
[Chapter 10 - I Hate You - Male Mage Hawke/Fenris](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/7867724)  
[Chapter 11 - It's Your Move - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/7867802)  
[Chapter 12 - Too Much - Male Warrior Trevelyan/Cullen Rutherford](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/8210171) (Sequel to Chapter 8)  
[Chapter 13 - Unsettled - Pre-Female Warrior Trevelyan/Cullen Rutherford](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/8210195)  
[Chapter 14 - Make A Move - Pre-Female Warrior Trevelyan/Cullen Rutherford](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/8473306) (Sequel to Chapter 12)  
[Chapter 15 - She's Right There - Pre-Female Warrior Trevelyan/Cullen Rutherford, Pre-Varric Tethras/Cassandra Pentaghast](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/9890141) (Sequel to Chapters 12 & 13)  
[Chapter 16 - Twenty-Three - Male Rogue Lavellan/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/11838350)  
[Chapter 17 - You're Here - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/11838380)  
[Chapter 18 - Tell Me - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/12335435)  
[Chapter 19 - What Good Am I - Male Rogue Lavellan/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/12335492) (Sequel to Chapter 15)  
[Chapter 20 - No Spring Chickens Here - Male Mage Trevelyan](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/13309945) (Sequel to Chapters 5 & 7)  
[Chapter 21 - Wait For Morning - Male Mage Lavellan/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/13408465)  
[Chapter 22 - Tol & Smol - Male Mage Adaar](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/13596607)  
[Chapter 23 - No Price - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/13655407)  
[Chapter 24 - Worth The Risk - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/14004049) (Sequel to Chapter 22)  
[Chapter 25 - Acceptance - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/14505139) (Sequel to Chapters 22 & 23)  
[Chapter 26 - Broken - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/14639974)  
[Chapter 27 - Younger Than Springtime - Male Mage Lavellan/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/14660974)  
[Chapter 28 - Let Me Hear You - Male Rogue Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/14682532)  
[Chapter 29 - Reminder - Male Warrior Trevelyan/Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/14798806)  
[Chapter 30 - Man Of Action - Male Rogue Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/14841685) (Prequel to Chapter 27)  
[Chapter 31 - Let's Dance - Pre-Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/14862052)  
[Chapter 32 - Kisses - Carver Hawke/Felix Alexius](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/14928340)  
[Chapter 33 - Adorable - Male Rogue Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/14951317) (Sequel to Chapters 27 & 29)  
[Chapter 34 - Good Morning - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/15068470)  
[Chapter 35 - Kitty - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/15189118)  
[Chapter 36 - Red Silk & Lace - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/15456862)  
[Chapter 37 - Fascination - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/15489205)  
[Chapter 38 - Hot - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/15491305)  
[Chapter 39 - More Time - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/15568120)  
[Chapter 40 - Self-Control - Male Mage Trevelyan/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/15587956) (Sequel to Chapters 5, 7 & 19)  
[Chapter 41 - The Morning After - Male Mage Trevelyan/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/15649864) (Sequel to Chapters 5, 7, 19 & 39)  
[Chapter 42 - Man of the Month - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/15722341)  
[Chapter 43 - Even Hawkes Can Learn - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus, background Female Rogue Hawke/Fenris](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/15722746)  
[Chapter 44 - Positively Evil - Male Mage Trevelyan/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/15785158)  
[Chapter 45 - Yes - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/15830050)  
[Chapter 46 - I Saw That - Male Mage Trevelyan/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/16060552)  
[Chapter 47 - Warm - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/16490047)  
[Chapter 48 - Indolent - Male Mage Trevelyan/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/16490677)  
[Chapter 49 - What Happened Last Night - Erm, check the description for this one](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/16663438)  
[Chapter 50 - Out Of Sorts - Check the summary](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/16846993)  
[Chapter 51 - Dropping Eaves - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/17134831)  
[Chapter 52 - Tea For Two - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/17134897)  
[Chapter 53 - He Was My Friend - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/17158241)  
[Chapter 54 - The Door Or The Window? - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/17357971)  
[Chapter 55 - The Call - Fenris/Solas](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/17382475)  
[Chapter 56 - Sharp Dressed Man - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/17383909)  
[Chapter 57 - Precious And Mine - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/17404069)  
[Chapter 58 - Good Morning - Male Mage Adaar/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/17456383)  
[Chapter 59 - Five Minutes - Male Rogue Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/17456434)  
[Chapter 60 - The Dance - Fenris/Solas](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/17456482)  
[Chapter 61 - I'm Tired Of Leaving - Fenris/Solas](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/17456566)  
[Chapter 62 - Morals And Standards - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/17941111)  
[Chapter 63 - Negotiations - Male Mage Trevelyan/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/18076126)  
[Chapter 64 - Fever - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/18275128)


	2. Masks - Male Mage Adaar/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This playthrough was a male mage Adaar, romancing Dorian and this little piece is set just before the masquerade at the Winter Palace. Would a Qunari (or Vashoth in this case) mage really be happy to wear a mask?

“No.”

Josephine blinked at the flat, absolute refusal that she’d received when she held out the mask to Kaaras.

“Inquisitor,” she said smoothly. “You must…”

“No,” Kaaras repeated, his expression was darkening by the moment. “I am not wearing a mask.”

Josephine seemed entirely nonplussed by both his blunt adamant refusal and his stormy expression and when Dorian and Iron Bull walked into the room, she turned to them in supplication.

“Please…”

“No, Josephine,” Kaaras said, overriding her with a rudeness he rarely showed to any of his advisors or companions. “I am not wearing a mask and that’s final. No one, not you, not Dorian, not Bull, is going to convince me otherwise. If the Orlesians don’t like that, they can stick their disapproval up their collective arses.”

With that the Vashoth mage stalked out of the sitting room and into the bedroom of the suite he’d been given at their inn. Silence reigned in his wake.

“Huh,” Iron Bull said contemplatively into that silence. “Guess I should have seen this coming. I just didn’t think it through properly.”

“Think what through?” Dorian said sharply. He had been rather startled himself by Kaaras’ behaviour. The Vashoth mage was usually especially polite to Josephine. He’d once admitted to Dorian that he always felt particularly large and cumbersome around the Ambassador, as though she was a porcelain doll and he was going to break her if he wasn’t careful. Dorian had laughed at that. Their Ambassador had a lot of steel in her, all shrouded by pure silk and velvet.

“Saarebas wear masks,” Iron Bull said. He didn’t really need to say anything more.

“Oh, dear,” Josephine said, looking down at the mask in her hand with distress. “I… I’m not sure if I can… The court is going to be appalled. But I do not wish…”

Dorian sighed. _He_ should have seen this coming as well. He and Kaaras had talked about this before and he knew the Vashoth mage’s opinion on how the Qunari treated their mages. He walked over at took the mask from Josephine’s hand.

“Let me talk to him.” He held up one hand when she looked hopeful. “I make no promises, Josephine, but I’ll talk to him.”

He let himself into the bedroom and found Kaaras staring moodily out the window. He took a moment to appreciate the view.

“You do look terribly dashing in red, Amatus.”

Kaaras looked over at him then glared at the mask in Dorian’s hand. “I’m not wearing that thing, Dorian.”

The Tevinter mage tossed the offending item on the bed and removed his mask. It joined the other mask on the bed. “I’m not going to make you, though I did promise to talk to you.” He closed the gap between them and leaned against the tall Vashoth. “So, talk to me.”

Kaaras sighed and let his tension run out as he wrapped an arm around his lover. “I can’t do it, Dorian. I can’t wear a mask like a damn Saarebas. Bad enough that I’m trussed up like a chicken in this uniform.”

So Bull had been right. Dorian wrapped his arms around his lover and magnanimously decided to forego the ten thousand witty comments the chicken line offered to him. “No Saarebas I’ve seen has a mask that stylish.”

Kaaras frowned. “That’s not the point, Dorian.”

“I know.”

The Vashoth mage sighed and pressed a kiss in the top of Dorian’s head, seeming to take comfort from the action. “How pissed at me is Josephine?”

“Not very,” Dorian replied. “She’s more worried that she won’t be able to assuage the offended sensibilities of the court but she’s trying to figure out a way.” He looked up and caressed Kaaras’ cheek. “She’s not going to force you to wear it either.”

Kaaras frowned. “She’s not? After everything I went through about these damn uniforms with her and Vivienne?”

“Bull explained. As much as a three word sentence can be an explanation. Though I suppose it was enough of one,” Dorian said. “Anyway, he said he probably should have seen this coming.”

Kaaras tilted Dorian’s head up with one finger and kissed him, something Dorian was more than happy to accept and then deepen. “ _I_ should have seen this coming,” Kaaras said when they broke apart. “I just… forgot about the masks.”

Dorian smiled mischievously. “We could always stay here. No masks required. No uniforms either.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Kaaras said ruefully. “Though you do look damn good in that uniform.”

“I’d look even better out of it.”

Kaaras made a low noise of want. “Dorian, you’re not helping.”

Dorian affected a look of innocence. “Oh, was I supposed to be helping? No one told me that.”

“I don’t know. Were you?” Kaaras said, pulling Dorian closer and leaning down to kiss him. The kiss quickly turned heated and Dorian moaned when Kaaras gently pushed him up against the wall and insinuated one large thigh between his legs, almost lifting him off his feet. He rocked against it involuntarily and moaned again.

“Gentlemen!”

Kaaras pulled away from Dorian lazily and turned his head just enough to see Josephine standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. She seemed caught between exasperation and amusement.

“If you ruin those uniforms, you’ll answer to Madame Vivienne,” she said, trying to be stern.

They stayed where they were for a moment then slowly moved away from each other. Dorian slid slightly behind the Inquisitor in order to hide the effect the other man had had on him.

“Josephine…” Kaaras began. He stopped when the Ambassador raised her hand.

“No, Inquisitor, it is I who should apologise to you,” she said. “You do not need to wear the mask. I will make things right with the court. They will understand.”

With that Josephine turned and left the room.

“Or else,” Dorian said with a chuckle. “Maker help the court if they refuse to understand.”

Kaaras turned back and sighed, pulling Dorian close again. “I should wear it.”

“Not if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“But we need to get the court’s approval.” The resignation was plain in the Inquisitor’s voice. “And it’s going to bad enough with me being both a mage and Vashoth.”

“So?” Dorian said with a snort. “If they’re going to fuss over you being a Vashoth mage then who cares if you go without a mask? It seems trivial in comparison.” He looked utterly wicked for a moment. “Besides, it’ll be a laugh. They’ll look at you and think you’re a complete barbarian and then get their knees cut out from underneath them when you outplay them in the Game.”

Kaaras raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m going to outplay them?”

“I’ve seen you run verbal rings around people at Skyhold,” Dorian replied. “If you put your mind to it tonight, you’ll have no trouble.”

Kaaras relaxed a little at Dorian’s confident assessment. Though Dorian hadn’t ever played the Game in Orlais, he had done so in a far more cutthroat – literally – court in Tevinter.

“And what will you be doing?”

“Standing in a little circle of emptiness as people avoid the _evil Tevinter mage_ ,” Dorian said mockingly. “And possibly entertaining people who think I _am_ actually an evil Tevinter mage or possibly even a Venatori spy, in which case I might learn something interesting for the Inquisition.”

“Sounds like a lot more fun than I’ll be having,” Kaaras said dryly before he sighed and walked over to the bed. He picked up the two masks and held Dorian’s out to him.

Dorian accepted the mask and put it on. “You don’t have to.”

Kaaras stared at the mask with distaste. “I’ll… I’ll try. But I reserve the right to pitch it out of the carriage before we get there.”

Dorian took it from him and gently put it on. “That sounds entirely fair to me.” He stepped back and gave Kaaras a critical look. “Though you do look good in it.”

Kaaras growled under his breath then held out one arm. “Shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: To answer the question some of you may have… yes, the mask got pitched out of the carriage window on the way to the Winter Palace. No masks for my mage Adaar. The Orlesians can just deal with it. :D


	3. Don't Tie Me Up - Female mage Adaar/Iron Bull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This comes from an aborted Iron Bull romance playthrough. While the BDSM elements were fine, it didn’t really work for the headcanon I had for this Inquisitor. My Kutide Adaar is a Vashoth mage who is not going to be tied up for love nor money and she’s also not a passive participant in _anything_. Also I found the whole ‘I know what you need’ thing to be a bit condescending. I don’t care how good a Ben-Hassrath Bull is, he is not a mind reader and thus cannot know what Kutide needs. Only she knows that. Whether or not she chooses to admit it to herself is her business. So while this is perhaps not entirely canon accurate, it’s was something I just needed to get down on paper to let go of that particular playthrough.

The Iron Bull didn’t like her.

It wasn’t entirely accurate but if Kutide Adaar had to sum it up to anyone who asked, that’s how she’d phrase it because she had a penchant for the flippant. They wouldn’t believe her though.

Certainly to the naked eye, Bull treated her like anyone else. He was bluff and hearty, he laughed and joked and slapped her on the shoulder, he acted like he did around everyone else. But he watched her like he did no one else. And she knew why. 

He probably thought he was being subtle and stealthy, being Ben-Hassrath and all, but Valo-Kas had gotten its share of Vashoth straight out of the Qun and she’d been watched like this before. She knew the feeling of wary eyes watching her, waiting for the signs that she was possessed or was going to possess someone else, waiting for the signs that she was a ‘ _dangerous thing_ ’.

Because she was an unbound mage. No collar, no Arvaarad, no controls, no lips sewn shut. An unbound mage, free to walk around as she pleased and do as she pleased. Anathaema to the Qun.

And Bull might act like a Vashoth but he wasn’t. Not really. Not to a _real_ Vashoth like her. One born and raised Vashoth. No, he might act like one but he was still of the Qun. Even now that the Qun had abandoned him, he still thought that way. It wasn’t uncommon in the new Vashoth. It took them time to climb out of the mental box the Qun had put them in. To realise they didn’t have to _be_ in a box in the first place.

She knew that Dalish got a pass on Bull’s suspicion because she was an elf but not her. Because she was Qunari and he looked at her and he saw one of his own. Then he looked again and saw a free unbound mage. And then his mind fritzed out on him at the disconnect.

His wariness didn’t offend her. If anything, it amused her and it was one of the reasons she flirted with him. She was confident it wasn’t going to go anywhere, despite all his boasting about people wanting to ‘ride the Bull’. She was willing to bet that if she actually followed through on her flirting, he’d shy away, unwilling to allow an unbound Saarebas that close to him.

She could almost hear her mother scolding her for seeking her entertainment at the expense of a Qunari. She’d admit it wasn’t the first time she’d done that. She sometimes liked to tease the new Vashoth in Valo-kas by flirting with them in the same way she was with Bull and watching them quietly freak out. Eventually someone would take them aside and sort them out with the facts of life about mages and she’d leave them be. Shokrakar used to glare at her about it but she always said that since she didn’t actually _break_ them in any way, there was nothing wrong with what she did.

So she felt she had some cause for being surprised when she walked into her rooms and found Bull sitting on her bed, waiting for her. She was even more surprised when he indicated he was there to follow up on her flirting. In fact, she didn’t really break out of her surprise – though her mouth was quite willing to keep on going without much in the way of active participation from her brain – until he pushed her up against the wall and trapped her hands above her head.

Her eyes flashed and a swift application of ice at her wrists had him letting go with a look of surprise. 

“I thought you wanted this?”

She smiled thinly. “This doesn’t just go one way, Bull. I have rules too.”

He placed one hand on the wall next to her head and leaned against it. She let him have that. 

“Sounds fair,” he said amiably. “What rules?”

“No restraints. No tying me up. No gags. Nothing like that.” The look she gave him was challenging and defiant. “I am a mage, I am Vashoth and I am free. I will never be collared or chained or masked, physically, mentally or emotionally. Not for anything. Not even for this. Accept that or this ends now.” She raised an eyebrow. “You may think you know what I need, Bull, but you don’t. You can’t read my mind, no matter how good your Ben-Hassrath training was.” She smiled thinly. “And you still think like one of the Qun. You’re afraid of me and that means whatever you _are_ reading is probably being misinterpreted by your fear.”

He didn’t like that. She could see it written across his face. 

“I’m not afraid of you,” he said with a growl.

She laughed, though not unkindly. “You look at me and see an unbound Saarebas. I can tell. I’ve seen that look in your eye before from other Vashoth straight out of the Qun. The Qun still has you wrapped up in the idea that I’m dangerous.” Her smile turned decidedly feral. “Of course, I _am_. Just not in the way the Qun would have you believe.”

He frowned then he started grumbling under his breath and she knew she’d nailed him to the floor. Now the challenge and defiance left her and she ran her fingers along his jawline.

“I confess I’ve been flirting with you with at least a reasonable amount of intent. I like you. I think the sex would be amazing and I think we could be good together.” She smiled mischievously. “Of course, I didn’t think you’d actually follow through. So are you here because you want me? Or are you here to defy your own fear of the _dangerous thing_?” Her smile turned dangerous. “Because if it’s the latter, you can fuck right off until you get your head sorted out and decide you actually want me. As I am. But if it’s the former, we should definitely get naked in my bed.”

She saw him twitch at her last sentence and grinned, wondering what mental image she’d put in his head with that. He glared at her and then shook his head ruefully.

“Played at my own damn game,” he muttered then he gave her the most candid look she’d ever had from him. “What if it’s both?”

“At least you’re man enough to admit to the fear,” she said, her fingers drifting from his jawline down to the harness he wore. She hooked her fingers under it casually. “So why are you afraid of me when you’re not afraid of Dalish?”

He growled at her but she just gave him an unimpressed look. She knew the answer to her own question; she just wanted him to admit it to himself.

“You’re Qunari,” he grumbled.

She patted him on the cheek with her free hand. “There you go. I knew you’d get there eventually.”

“You’re really fucking annoying. You know that, right?” he said with a withering look.

She grinned unrepentantly. “Yeah. People tell me that all the time. But I’ve got great tits so I tend to get away with it.”

He wasn’t expecting that response and she startled a laugh out of him before he very deliberately looked at her breasts. “They are pretty nice.”

“Want to see them without the clothes in the way?” she offered with as close to an innocent look on her face as she could manage. “I promise I’ll only burn your face off if you want me to.”

He laughed again and rested his forehead against hers. “This isn’t going the way I had planned.”

“Good,” she said archly. “I like disrupting people’s plans, especially when said plans should involve my input from the beginning.” 

She began very deliberately unbuttoning her shirt until Bull knocked her hands away.

“I want to do that,” he said, almost daring her to disagree.

Kutide shrugged and leaned against the wall rather insouciantly. “If you like.”

He took over the work and when he’d undone it enough to reveal her breasts, he stopped, pulled her breastband aside and gave them a good long look.

“Definitely a great set of tits.”

She looked down and smiled. “They are, aren’t they? One of my best assets.”

He grinned at her then lowered his head and drew one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking on it then biting gently, almost as if he was testing the waters. She rested her head… or rather her horns… against the wall and gave a low moan of approval that turned into a disgruntled sound when he removed his mouth.

“Teeth are good then?” he said with a grin.

“Yeah, they’re good,” she said before grabbing his horns and pulling towards her breasts again. “Now get back to it.”

He gave her a feral grin in response then wrapped his arms around her hips and lifted her up off the ground. She gave a yelp of surprise then burst out laughing as he carried her over to the bed and dumped her down on it. He followed her down onto it and loomed over her on his hands and knees.

“Now, where were we?”

“You were asserting your masculine dominance after I pulled the rug out from underneath you before,” Kutide said dryly.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said equally as dryly. “You going to put a stop to that as well?”

“Nope,” she said with a grin as she wriggled out of her shirt and breastband and tossed them over the side of the bed. Her grin widened when his eyes drifted down to her breasts almost involuntarily. “I don’t do restraints of any kind or masks but everything else is negotiable.”

His eyes narrowed and she could see him thinking hard. “What happened?”

She gave him a slightly unimpressed look. “You _really_ want to do this right now?”

He gave her another long look then shifted over onto his side, supporting his head with one hand. “Yeah, I think I do.”

Kutide sighed and grabbed a pillow to shove under her head between her horns. “Tell me what you think happened.”

“You got caught by a Qunari patrol.”

She snorted. “I’d be dead if that happened and you know it. Try again.”

His eyes narrowed. “The Ben-Hassrath. Your parents. Something combining those two.”

“Good guess, though the Ben-Hassrath have nothing to do with it,” she replied. “Mam was a Saarebas. She’s got the little pinprick scars around her mouth and all and she always got freaked out whenever Orlesians were around. Never knew what was going on with her until it turned out I was a mage and they had to tell me. Mam may have overshared a little. Or a lot. Actually try _a lot_. I had nightmares for three weeks straight. Never really went away. Been captured a time or two when jobs went bad. Always end up with weeks of nightmares afterwards from the restraints. Happened with the Inquisition too. They had me shackled when they still thought I was responsible for the big boom at the Conclave.”

She smiled slightly though there was little humour in the expression. “So… I don’t do restraints of any kind.” The smile then became more genuine. “But if you want to pick me up and toss me on the bed and play dominant then I’m good with that.”

“You coulda just told me that from the start,” Bull said.

“You coulda just trusted me to know my limits,” she countered.

“Point,” he said before moving over her again and mouthing at her breasts. “These really are nice tits.”

Kutide smiled and caressed the back of his head. “You’ve got nice tits too, Bull.” She paused. “Sorry. Pillowy man-bosoms.”

He raised his head and gave her a long look. “I’ve got to keep you away from Krem.”

“Krem is a jewel of a man,” she said with a gamine grin. “I’m so tempted to steal him from you.”

He gave her a sharp slap on the flank. “Hands off my boys.”

Her eyes widened and she drew in a sharp breath. “Do that again and maybe I’ll think about it.”

He slapped her flank again and when she let out a breathy moan, he nuzzled at her breasts. “Like that do you?”

“It’s a turn on,” she admitted, more than willing to let him know a few of the things she _did_ like since she’d spiked his initial plans. She pulled at the harness he wore. “Get this off.”

“Sure, Boss,” he said. He kissed the side of her breast then bit down and sucked hard, bruising the skin. 

Kutide moaned and arched into the sucking bite, the sharp pain a delicious counterpoint to the pleasure of Bull’s kiss and caresses. Her hands caught at his harness and yanked on it. “Get this off now, dammit.”

Bull chuckled and sat up. He quickly pulled off the harness and then started undoing her pants. She didn’t argue with him and soon both their pants and boots had joined the rest of their clothes on the floor. Bull rested on his heels between her legs and let her just look with a smug expression on his face. Something she dealt with by firmly wrapping her hand around his rather impressive erection.

He made a low rumbling noise and leaned forward to kiss her, pulling her hand away from his cock as he did so.

“Now that’s no fair,” she said after the kiss ended. “I hope you’re going to put that to good use since you’re not letting me touch.”

“Yeah, I’m going to fuck you into the mattress with it.”

She grinned. “That _is_ a good use. Your Inquisitor approves.”

“Thought you’d like it.”

Bull had just lowered his head to her breasts again when a knock came at the door. They both froze then Bull went back to mouthing and kissing her skin.

“Inquisitor?” came Cassandra’ voice. “Are you there?”

“Fucking _gobshite_ ,” Kutide said with a great deal of feeling. She could probably have fobbed off Josephine or Cullen. Maybe even Leliana. Cassandra however was far too stubborn for that.

Bull chuckled and drew a nipple into his mouth. He sucked on it briefly then let her feel his teeth, drawing a low pleased moan from her, before letting go. “You’ve been spending too much time with Sera.”

“My foul mouth is all my own,” Kutide said with a snort. She then raised her voice enough to be heard through the door. “What is it, Cassandra?”

“There is an urgent message from Rylen that needs your attention.” Cassandra paused for a moment. “Neither Commander Cullen nor Leliana believe it can wait.”

If she didn’t know Rylen was reliable and that neither Cullen nor Leliana were prone to exaggeration, she might have told Cassandra that whatever it was could wait. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. She gave Bull a shove that he allowed to topple him onto the bed then she reached for her pants, breastband and shirt.

She leaned over and caught Bull’s mouth in a fierce biting kiss as she reached for his cock and stroked it a few times. Bull groaned then swore at her when she let go and stood up.

“Keep that thought,” she said as she dressed. She gave him a feral grin. “After all, you promised to fuck me into the mattress and I’m holding you to that.”

“Yeah, yeah, leave me here all excited with nothing to do,” Bull said with a grin as he lounged on the bed.

“You’ve got a hand,” Kutide retorted. “In fact, you’ve got two of them. Amuse yourself.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Unless you think you won’t recover in time?”

“Ha!” Bull reached for his erect cock and began lazily stroking it. “Off you go, boss. You’ve got work to do.”

Kutide watched him for a moment with a rather lascivious look on her face, mentally debating the likelihood of Cassandra breaking down the door if she stayed and let Bull fuck her, then she turned on her heel and headed for the stairs. She paused at the top and gave him a look of sheer mischief.

“Now don’t wear yourself out.”

“Never do, boss,” he said with an answering grin.

Kutide hurried down the stairs and opened the door, making sure the look on her face was more professional than carnal. 

“Inquisitor,” Cassandra said. She looked caught between impatience and curiosity as to why the door had been locked. Before either of them could say anything, Bull’s voice came booming cheerfully down from upstairs.

“Hey, boss! You really do have nice tits.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened and Kutide started to laugh. She gave the Seeker a gentle shove towards the lower door and yelled back over her shoulder.

“Thanks, Bull. You can admire them more later.”

Cassandra spluttered but Kutide kept her moving until they were out the lower door and into the main hall.

“Breathe, Cassandra,” she said dryly.

The Seeker shot her an irritated look but she did take a deep breath before saying sceptically, “Bull?”

“You’re surprised?” Kutide replied dryly. “I’ve been flirting with him since he and the Chargers got to Haven. I’d have thought you’d noticed that.”

“I did.” Cassandra rolled her eyes. “But he is…”

“The Iron Bull,” Kutide finished with a shrug of her shoulders as though that explained everything. And it sort of did. She pushed open the door that lead to the War Room. “I don’t know what this is precisely, Cassandra, but I’m a big girl.” She grinned. “Literally. I can handle myself. I know what I’m getting into.”

Cassandra gave her a long look but seemed to find whatever it was she was looking for as she gave Kutide a nod and returning to the matter that had brought her to Kutide’s door. “Rylen reports an influx of Venatori in the Western Approach. Right now it’s manageable but he’s concerned that if they keep arriving at the current rate, he’s not going to have enough people to hold the fort.”

“Damn,” Kutide said, her mind moving away from the Qunari waiting for her in her room and onto business. “What the hell are they up to now?”


	4. Shave Me - Male Warrior Adaar/Cassandra Pentaghast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have a number of half-done playthroughs that I pick up and put down depending on my mood at the time. This is from a Cass-romancing male Adaar and the idea came from a rather entertaining interlude when I shaved an old boyfriend of mine after he hurt his hand. He said it was very, very different from being shaved by a barber. ;D Also this Adaar is like a gigantic, slightly clumsy Great Dane puppy.

The first time Kaaras Adaar saw Cassandra Pentaghast, he noticed two things. The first was that she was beautiful. The second was that she was very, very angry and that anger seemed to be mostly directed at him. Not too much later, he noticed a third thing - she was a damn fine fighter. In fact, she was good enough that he couldn’t help but feel ridiculously and somewhat inappropriately turned on. Thankfully for his dignity and her opinion of him, he was immediately distracted by elves and dwarves and rifts and then the Breach itself.

Haven gave him an opportunity to flirt with her and while she didn’t seem upset by that, she wasn’t exactly encouraging either. Actually, if anything, she seemed perplexed. Still he didn’t intend to give up. Warrior women were something of a thing for him - just about every woman he’d bedded had been a warrior - and he'd never met a finer one than Cassandra. And it's not as if he had plenty of free time on his hands to make an ass of himself like he did over Larissa that time when they were wintering over in Val Chevin. This whole Herald of Andraste thing kept him busier than he'd ever been in the past so maybe he could actually manage _suave_ instead of _ridiculous_ for once.

It wasn’t until they were camping in the Hinterlands one evening not long after they’d gotten back from recruiting the Templars from Therinfal Redoubt that he got any indication that Cassandra might actually be affected by his flirting and, well, him in general. He'd been rubbing his head all day. It had been nearly three weeks since he'd last shaved his head and the stubble was starting to annoy him. So when they made camp that evening, he decided to do something about it.

He came out to sit next to the fire with his shaving implements in his hands. He'd already taken off his armour and washed the vitaar from his face and now he stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside. It was the work of a few moments to lather up his head and then he got to work with his razor. He did it by feel, having long gotten used to not having a mirror. He slowly worked his way around the base of his horns first, ignoring the water and soap that was trickling down his neck and shoulders. This was always the trickiest part. The skin was sensitive and thin where it lay over the emerging horns. 

A choking sound made him start and he came close to nicking himself. He looked up to see what the sound was and found Cassandra staring at him. Or at his chest to be more precise. She looked up and, for a moment, their eyes met then Cassandra turned away. But Kaaras could have sworn she was blushing before she did. However when she turned back and sat down opposite him, she seemed perfectly composed and he wondered whether he’d seen that right at all.

"I did not realise that..." She waved a hand towards his head.

Kaaras went back to the delicate work of shaving round his horns. "I shaved my head? I'm not naturally bald."

"The few Qunari I have met all seem to have bald heads."

Kaaras chuckled. "It's easier with the horns just to shave it all off... at least that's my point of view... but we do have hair. Some of the other Qunari in my company grow their hair pretty long. Me? I hate the feel of it."

"Do you always shave like this?"

He gave her a blank look and shook the collected soap and stubble from the razor. "Razor, soap, water. How else am I meant to do it?"

"I mean without a mirror."

"Oh, that. Yeah." He smiled ruefully. "There's a standing order in the Valo-kas that they don't give me anything breakable to carry because sure as hell, I'll break it. I went through about a dozen mirrors before I gave up and learned to do it by feel."

He ran his fingers over the skin around his horns and grumbled under his breath. He'd done a lousy job on the skin that lay under his horns. That was always the hardest part since his horns lay close to his head instead of branching out like Bull’s did, lucky bastard, but if he didn't get it done, it would itch something fierce. And being called an ox-man was annoying enough without looking like one by rubbing his head and horns against any handy surface.

"Is something wrong?"

"I'm trying to figure out whether nicking myself and bleeding half the night is preferable to itching for days until I can get that soldier whose set himself up as a barber in Haven to shave round my horns."

"I... I could do it if you would like."

He stared at her for a moment and it looked like she was as surprised by her offer as he was. But hell, he wasn't going to miss this opportunity to have a gorgeous fierce woman manhandle him a bit. Just one thing...

"Uh, you ever shaved someone else before?"

"No, but I will be careful."

He hesitated for a moment longer then held the razor out to her. He trusted her with his life, why wouldn’t he trust her with his head? "Let me just lather up again. Be gentle. The skin is sensitive around the base of my horns and it's easy to nick it."

She had gotten up and she now took the razor, moving around to stand in front of him. He lathered the skin and then nodded to her. As she drew the razor over his skin and around his horns, first hesitantly and then with greater confidence, he suddenly found out why the other mercs had always made lewd jokes about this sort of thing. Her free hand rested gently on his head and she quickly worked out the right pressure to use to shave him properly but not cut the skin. The sensation of someone else doing this was like nothing he'd ever felt before and he felt himself getting hard.

A slow blush crept up his cheeks and he hoped like hell Cassandra hadn't noticed it. Thankfully the fact that he was sitting disguised his growing erection but the blush might be harder to explain. And he really, _really_ didn’t want her thinking that he was some kind of brutish beast.

Then she took hold of one of his horns and used it to move his head and he couldn't help the somewhat strangled noise that escaped him. Yeah, okay, he had a thing for his bed partners grabbing hold of his horns. Some humans liked pulling hair! It was the same thing, right?

But she'd obviously heard the noise because she immediately let go.

"Oh! I'm sorry. Should I not do that?"

For a moment the question hung in the air as Kaaras tried to think of an answer that wouldn't make him sound like a complete lech. Because he didn't want to lie to her either. If he ever managed to convince her that a relationship with him was a good thing - because this woman was sure as hell no simple bed partner - he didn't want her thinking she couldn't do that. Because he liked it. And he wanted her to do that maybe, some day in the nebulous future.

"Er, no.... It's, uh, fine."

But he'd taken too long and sounded too unconvincing and she stepped back to take a good look at him. Kaaras wondered if he could use the mark on his hand to open up the ground so it could swallow him. Because here he was, flushed and trying to hide an erection, and Cassandra had very sharp eyes.

He actually _knew_ the moment when she figured it out even though he wasn't looking at her. Her sudden tiny, almost silent gasp was enough. His blush deepened but now it had nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with shame. But at least it took care of his arousal. That was one small mercy.

"I... look, Cassandra... it's.... this..." He couldn't even get half a sentence out and he had a moment to reflect that if Shokrakar was here, he'd have fallen off his seat laughing by now.

He was shocked into silence however when Cassandra stepped forward again and almost delicately placed her hand back on his head. She tilted his head to one side and went back to shaving him.

The rest of the shave continued in silence and when she was finished, she placed the razor into the cup of water, picked up the scrap of towel he’d also brought out and stepped back. For a moment, they just looked at each other then Cassandra surprised him when she gave him a tiny smile.

“There.” She hesitated for a moment then said, “If you ever need help with that again, you… you only need to ask.”

She was blushing, actually _blushing_ , by the end of that and she shoved the towel into his hands before stalking away. Kaaras watched her go with amazement and a growing smile. He’d made her blush, he’d made her smile and she hadn’t smacked him for becoming inappropriately turned on around her. This day was the best he could remember for a long time.

“Now there’s something I never thought I’d see.”

Kaaras almost fell off his seat at the sound of Varric’s voice and he hastily began mopping up the remnants of water and soap from his head, shoulders and chest. “Which bit?”

“All of it,” Varric said dryly. “The Seeker is human, after all. Who knew?”

“She’s amazing,” Kaaras said with what he was sure was a particularly sappy grin.

Varric gave him a long look then started to chuckle. “You and the Seeker, huh? Now that might be something worth writing a story about.”


	5. Home - Female Warrior Warden Cousland/Warden Alistair, implied Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So… this idea came into my head and I had to write it. I don’t think it’s that great but it was one of those things that I had to write down to get it out of my head so I could move onto other things. This is the obligatory Warden Cousland coming home and I tied in a bit of her remembering Cullen as well. It's just a bit of headcanony stuff.

Warden-Commander Elissa Cousland looked at the bulk of Skyhold looming in the distance and gave a sigh of relief. She had been half thinking she’d taken a wrong turn somewhere in the Frostbacks but the fortress was simply far better hidden than she’d expected. Which in hindsight made sense. It wouldn’t have remained lost for so long if it wasn’t well hidden. But she’d found it now and she estimated she’d reach the fortress by mid-afternoon, barring anything ghastly happening.

She was just glad to be home and even better, she had the answer she’d been seeking. But that wasn’t why she was riding towards Skyhold. The last word she’d had from Alistair was that he was heading there with the Champion and she wanted more than anything else to see him and just lose herself in her husband’s embrace. It had been difficult enough to leave him behind but… it had been necessary. Now she had succeeded and they would not be apart again if she had any say in it.

She also thought that Skyhold might be the best place to get some answers to some other questions she had. About the rumours of disappearing Wardens for a start. She hadn’t had time to stop in at Vigil’s Keep. She’d sent word to Sigrun and Nathaniel but had yet to hear back from them. That was a bit worrying since she ought to have by now. But Alistair was her priority. She could deal with the rest later.

The sun was hanging low in the sky when she finally approached the gates of Skyhold and she brought her horse to a halt as guards appeared to block her path.

“Hold, Warden, and identify yourself,” one of the guards said, his expression wary.

“I am Warden-Commander Elissa Cousland,” she replied, not even slightly offended by their caution. In fact, she approved. It spoke of good discipline in the Inquisition soldiers.

The guard’s eyes widened at her words and he bowed before looking at her with awe. “Warden-Commander! We… we weren’t expecting you.”

Elissa smiled wryly. “My return was a bit unexpected.” She raised an eyebrow. “Is my husband here?” He gave her a blank look and she smirked. Their marriage wasn’t widely known but she’d be damned if she called him anything else. “Alistair?”

The guard looked startled then he nodded. “Er, yes, Warden-Commander. The army returned from Adamant Fortress three days ago. I believe Warden Alistair was planning to leave in the next day or two though.”

Elissa frowned at that. Leave? And go where? Nevermind. She’d find out soon enough. She grinned at the awe-struck guards. “May I pass?”

The guards jumped and stepped aside. “O…Of course, Warden-Commander! Welcome to Skyhold.”

Elissa chuckled as she nudged her horse forward. It wasn’t the first time she’d been greeted like that. It was always odd but she’d gotten used to it. She found that if she ignored the stammering and stares, people tended to get on with it after a while.

She noticed the crow fly over head towards the fortress and thus she wasn’t overly surprised when she found a welcoming party waiting for her when she came through the gates into the lower courtyard. However when she saw the man standing just a little apart, smiling adoringly at her, she ignored the welcoming party in favour of scrambling off her horse and hurling herself into his arms.

“Alistair,” she whispered before pulling back and kissing him. He returned her kiss just as fervently and for a long moment, they were the only two people in the world.

“Welcome back, my love,” Alistair said when they finally separated. He couldn’t stop smiling nor could he tear his eyes away from his wife. She looked tired and worn and there was a scar running along the length of her jaw on the left side of her face that hadn’t been there before. But she also looked quietly triumphant as she always did when she’d succeeded at a seemingly impossible task.

“Elissa.” 

The warm musical voice was very familiar and Elissa turned with a grin.

“Leliana!” She reluctantly broke away from Alistair to hug her friend. “It’s been far too long.”

“Yes, it has,” Leliana said, smiling broadly. “But we’ve both been busy.” She drew Elissa forward. “Let me introduce you to everyone. This is our Inquisitor, Tegan Trevelyan. The Inquisition’s ambassador, Josephine Montilyet. Our military advisor, Commander Cullen.”

Leliana’s introduction had been smooth and calm and she made no indication that either of them knew Cullen. Elissa decided to follow her friend’s lead and she smiled and shook hands with them all. She noticed Cullen seemed a little strained and she couldn’t help but compare the man standing in front of her with the one she’d met briefly in Kinloch Hold. This man seemed… better. Calmer. More mature. She approved and made a note to catch up with him later, to smooth things over if nothing else. For now though, she allowed herself to be drawn into the main hall with the others to hear about what had been going on and to meet the rest of the Inquisitor’s companions.

*******

Later that evening, Elissa and Alistair walked hand in hand across the bridge that lead from the main building to the tower they’d been told Cullen had claimed.

“Why are we doing this again?” Alistair asked. “Not that I object. I’ve been working with Cullen for a few weeks now. He’s very good at his job but…”

“Did you know him?” Elissa asked, breaking into her husband’s babble with fond but practised ease. “I mean, before we found him the Circle.”

Alistair smiled wryly. “I did. Not well but yes, I knew him when we were recruits. He took the whole Templar thing much more seriously than I ever did so we… didn’t exactly move in the same circles, so to speak. But he was always decent and helpful.”

“So you’ve been working on that basis then?”

“Pretty much,” Alistair admitted. “He hasn’t brought up Kinloch so I figured it was best to steer clear of the subject.”

They reached the door by now and Elissa knocked firmly.

“Come in,” came the brisk response from inside.

They walked in to find Cullen poring over a seemingly endless supply of paperwork. He looked up and drew in a sharp breath when he saw who it was.

“I… Warden-Commander,” he said finally with a nod to Elissa. “Alistair.”

“You can call me Elissa, you know? The world won’t end if you do,” Elissa said wryly.

“I…” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck in what seemed to be a nervous gesture. “I’ll try.”

Elissa moved into the room and closed the door behind them. “I didn’t want to make an issue of it in front of the others but I…” She smiled softly. “Well, I haven’t seen you in a long time and you… weren’t in very good shape when we left and I…” She shrugged. “I always kind of wished we’d been able to do more than just grab the mages’ agreement to help and run, so to speak. We left the Tower is such a mess.”

Cullen rubbed his neck again and looked down at his desk. “I… I’m fine. I wasn’t at the time but I am now.” He looked a bit shame-faced. “I… really should apologise for what I said. It was entirely uncalled for.”

He would have continued but Elissa was holding up one hand to stop him. 

“You don’t need to apologise, Cullen,” she said. “You’d been through… a lot. It was understandable.” She smiled a little. “I take it you’ve had a change of heart about mages then?”

The blush that comment got from Cullen was unexpected as was the bashful expression. When Alistair chuckled, she turned on her husband with a mock glare. He clearly knew the cause of that reaction.

“Alright. What haven’t you told me?”

Alistair held his hands up. “Who me? I tell you everything, my love. You know I’m lousy at keeping secrets.”

“Uhuh,” she said sceptically. “Because I’m feeling distinctly out of the loop right now.”

“I… Dorian and I are…” Cullen stammered, his blush intensifying.

Elissa whirled around with a grin. “Oooh! The pretty Tevinter mage?”

Cullen’s reply was cut off by Alistair’s, “Pretty?”

Elissa grinned at her husband. “He’s very pretty but not as pretty as you.”

“I’m not sure if I’m pleased or offended right now,” Alistair said wryly. “I’d much prefer ruggedly handsome to pretty.”

“You’re ruggedly handsome as well,” Elissa replied soothingly. 

“Leliana keeps telling me to stand there and look pretty in the War Room,” Cullen said. He looked amused.

“Leliana has spent too much time with me,” Elissa replied with a grin. She sobered. “Has Leliana been… alright? I know she was the Left Hand of the Divine and the Divine’s death must have hit her hard.”

“It has but she’s… as terrifying as ever,” Cullen said.

Elissa chuckled. “It’s always so hard to think of Leliana as being terrifying.”

“She really is,” Alistair said, coming up behind Elissa and wrapping his arms around her. She leaned back into his embrace. “It’s scary. _She’s_ scary. I think she’s scarier now than Morrigan ever was. In fact, this place is full of scarily competent people. It makes me feel inadequate.”

“You should have spent more time paying attention in training,” Cullen said dryly. “Then you could be scarily competent too.”

“Ouch.” Alistair pretended to grab at his heart. “That was a low blow.”

“True though.”

Alistair nodded. “I can’t deny it. What can I say? Templar training just wasn’t for me. I think everyone knew that.”

“So you became a Grey Warden instead,” Elissa said brightly.

“Darkspawn and Archdemons are _much_ better than Templar training.” Alistair paused. “Oh, wait… maybe not.”

“You know… I found it,” Elissa said soberly abruptly. “The answer.”

Alistair’s eyes widened and even Cullen looked interested.

“You did? We can end the Calling?”

Elissa nodded. “It’s not easy but it can be done. The only drawback is that it removes the taint entirely so we… wouldn’t be Grey Wardens anymore.”

“But it can be done at any time?” Cullen asked. “Without it causing permanent effects if someone has been a Warden for years?”

Elissa nodded. “Yes and I think I know what you’re thinking about. Retirement. We can still have Wardens but when the Calling starts, we can remove the taint and free them. It means being a Warden is no longer a death sentence but a… sacrifice you make for the safety of Thedas to guard against the Blight but one you can have an honourable retirement from.”

“The best of both worlds,” Alistair said.

“It doesn’t reduce the danger of the Joining though,” Elissa added then she sighed. “Given everything that happened at Adamant, I just wish I’d found it sooner.”

She’d been told the full story of what had happened to the Wardens and while she was angry at Clarel for her blindness, she was more concerned with what had happened to the Fereldan Wardens since neither Sigrun nor Nathaniel had been among the numbers at Adamant nor had there been more than a bare handful of the Wardens she’d recruited. Given that, she had some hope that Nathaniel and Sigrun been able to keep her Wardens out of the worst of it.

“You found it,” Alistair said quietly. “So it doesn’t ever need to happen again.”

“So what will you two be doing now?” Cullen asked, breaking the silence that had fallen.

“We’re going to Weisshaupt then we’re going to go and find my Wardens,” Elissa said. “There were only a few at Adamant.”

“Together?” 

“Yes,” Alistair said firmly as his arms tightened around his wife and Elissa chuckled.

“Yes, together,” she said. “We’ve both had enough of the separation. It was too much. Whatever we do now, we will do together.”


	6. I'm Too Old For This - Male Mage Trevelyan Inquisitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had some fun with the CC settings and created me an older mage. This is not a young buck running around trying to deny what’s happened or thinking he’s a hero. Just a middle-aged man accepting responsibility for things he had no control over and deciding he’s too damn old for all this. :D There may be more from this Inquisitor. Possibly. But this is just some headcanon for his background - what he was and how he got where he is. That sort of thing. It will eventually be a Dorian romance.
> 
> Oh, and I went and did things like the ram meat and blankets and whatnot then went to Val Royeaux before I went to see Dennet. That's why he mentions Vivienne in this context.

As he sat down next to the fire at the Inquisition camp in the Hinterlands, Drake Trevelyan decided that he was far too old for all of this. After a day of running around the Hinterlands, dealing with rogue mages and Templars, despatching wolves and marking places for towers, he was feeling every one of his forty-six years. His knees felt about twenty years older than that.

“Here you go, Herald.”

Drake looked up to see Varric holding out a bowl of what he could only describe as mystery stew. However it smelled good and his stomach growled ferociously as he took the bowl with a smile and a nod. Cassandra and Solas soon joined them and for a while they ate quietly but rather companionably. Unsurprisingly, it was Varric who eventually broke the silence.

“So… a mage as the Herald of Andraste.”

Drake snorted and looked amused. “I’m sure it’s causing many sets of knickers to twist in the Chantry.”

“Now there’s a mental image,” Varric said with a grin.

Drake returned the grin and finished off the last of his stew. He still couldn’t have told anyone what the mystery meat was in it but it had been hot and good and filling and he felt like he could shave at least half a decade off how he was feeling now.

“Why were you at the Conclave, if I may ask?” Cassandra said. “Were you one of the rebels?”

Drake snorted again. “Hardly.” He grimaced. “Not that I entirely disagree with their arguments. I’m not like Vivienne to blindly believe in the rightness of the Circles. Ostwick was, by and large, a good Circle but you don’t have to spend too long in one to be able to see where the problems and abuses can and do start.”

“You were a Senior Enchanter.”

Drake nodded. “I was. Still am, I suppose. I knew more than most about how Circles were run and how Ostwick’s was run in particular than most.” He sighed. “There were problems, Cassandra. You’d have to be almost wilfully blind not to admit that.” He waved a hand. “That’s ‘you’ in general, not ‘you’ specifically. Anyway, Kirkwall was an extreme case but things were bad in many Circles.”

“And yet, you were not a rebel,” Solas observed.

Drake set his bowl aside and stared into the distance for a moment before turning his attention back to his companions.

“I’m not a big believer in the idea of fixing things by destroying them completely unless it’s absolutely necessary,” he said. “I don’t think we were at that stage over all. I think it was still possible to salvage matters. Maybe there were some Circles that would need tearing down and rebuilding but, to continue the analogy, I think mostly what was needed was some serious renovations.” 

He sighed and looked over his shoulder towards where the Breach hung in the sky, pulsing and green.

“Not that I think there’s much chance of that anymore.”

“Was that why you were at the Conclave?” Varric asked.

“Sort of,” Drake replied. “The former First Enchanter wanted some more moderate voices to stand between the rebels and their ‘freedom at any cost’ line and the hard line Chantry types who wanted a return to the status quo.”

“Was it working?”

“Not really,” Drake said with a snort. “It was like talking to a brick wall in most cases. It didn’t matter if it was one of the rebel mages or a Templar. Honestly I was tempted to toss the lot of them out on their ears and hope the dragon that reportedly once lived near Haven came back and ate them all.”

Varric chuckled. “And instead you became the Herald of Andraste.”

“Which just proves that the Maker, if he’s responsible for this, has a hell of a sense of humour.” Drake groaned and stretched out his legs. “Because I am far too old for all this gallivanting around the countryside.”

“I daresay you are not that much older than I am,” Solas said with amusement.

“Yes, but you’re the enterprising apostate who has lived his entire life avoiding the Templars and assorted others while wandering the wilderness looking for new and interesting places to sleep,” Drake said dryly. “I, however, am the pampered Circle mage who was quite happy with his comfortable chairs and soft bed and three meals a day all provided for him while he never had to do more than tromp up and down a few flights of stairs.”

Solas and Varric chuckled at that while even Cassandra looked amused.

“You all think I’m joking,” Drake said with a wry grin. “You’re looking at the mage who would actively try and hide from the Templars when they tried to chivvy us all outside into the sun in the courtyard so we didn’t wilt or otherwise develop strange illnesses from staying inside all the time.”

“You’d hide from them?” Varric said with a laugh.

Drake nodded. “It didn’t take them long to figure out my hiding spots, damn them. And then the Knight-Commander, crafty sneaky bastard that he was, would send Magnus in to lure me outside, knowing I wouldn’t say no to him.”

“Magnus?” Cassandra asked curiously.

Drake hesitated for a moment then chuckled. “One of the young Knight-Templars. Well, not that young. Mid-twenties. Very pretty, excellent mind and a devil of a chess player.” He smiled ruefully at them. “The Knight-Commander was well aware of my weaknesses. Intelligent pretty Templars were right at the top of the list.” He caught Cassandra’s raised eyebrow and laughed. “Oh no, my dear Seeker, nothing ever happened. I knew better than to get involved with a Templar and I don’t think Magnus’ preferences ran to his own sex anyway. Think of it as using the right bait to lure out your prey. As I said, the Knight-Commander was a sneaky, tricky bastard. I never could resist a pretty face attached to an intelligent mind and he damn well knew it.”

“Would it not have been easier to simply go outside when it was suggested?” 

“Where’s the fun in that, Cassandra? Besides I grew rather fond of being coaxed.” Drake looked around the camp and sighed. “And now here I am camping of all things.”

“You are indeed a pampered Circle mage,” Solas said with dry amusement.

Drake nodded, an impish twinkle in his eyes. “I am a Senior Enchanter of the Ostwick Circle fallen low and become a mere apostate. It’s a terrible let down, I’ll have you know.”

“I would suggest that becoming the Herald of Andraste makes up for some of it.”

Drake sobered and looked down at his marked hand. “Not really. I was never interested in saving the world, just researching my little corner of it.” He looked up at the others. “Not that I have much choice anymore. Ah well, no point complaining about it. What’s done is done. However it happened, I’m the one who ended up with this mark and now I have to put it to use.” He made a rather amusing forlorn face. “Even if it does end up making me feel old and crinkled and crunched at the end of the day.”

The others laughed at that then Solas said, “A remarkably responsible attitude.”

“I’m too old to be irresponsible. I leave the whining and the cries of ‘it’s not fair’ to the young.” He raised an eyebrow. “By the time you get to be my age, you know that life _isn’t_ fair and whining about it isn’t going to change things. You just have to get on with it.” He shrugged. “Besides, it doesn’t matter whether _I_ believe I’m the Herald of Andraste or that the Maker sent me, it’s what other people believe and if it comforts them and gives them strength to think that then I can live with it.”

“That is why we have not been trying to stop such talk,” Cassandra added. “It does little harm and has done much to improve morale since the explosion.”

Drake nodded. “The solid fact is that I _can_ close the rifts and presumably I _will_ be able to close the Breach. That’s what’s important here. The rest of it is just window dressing essentially.”

“And then your work will be done?” Solas asked. He looked like he was assessing Drake in some manner.

“I don’t know,” Drake replied. “I’m certainly willing to help the Inquisition however I can but my position now is a result of sheer dumb luck as far as I know. From what little we heard at the Temple, I stumbled into something. It didn’t sound like I knew what was going on. So once the Breach is closed… well, that’s something to consider when we actually manage to do that. _If_ it works.”

Now both Cassandra and Solas were giving him rather heavy assessing looks. He chose to ignore them. He didn’t really classify himself as a leader, no matter that he’d been a Senior Enchanter. He’d never been interested in the job of First Enchanter and he certainly wasn’t interested in leading anything as… ominous as the Inquisition.

“Well, here’s to closing the Breach,” Varric said, breaking the somewhat heavy silence that had fallen. “Let’s hope either the mages or the templars come to their senses and gives us a hand.”


	7. This is Justice - Female Mage Hawke/Fenris; Male Rogue Lavellen/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m not really sure where this came from since I don’t actually use a Fenris-mancing Hawke when I choose to use a world state that’ll give me the awful Hawke/Alistair choice. But this came to mind because frankly leaving Hawke in the Fade made me cry and the on screen message did only say Hawke was _likely_ to die, not that she would. So this stuck around so I figured I’d write it. This features a female mage Hawke who rivalmanced Fenris and my male Dalish archer rogue elf, Adaerion Lavellen, who is romancing Dorian. (And if you know where I got Adaerion’s name from… yay! We read the same books! :D)
> 
> Also Varric’s voice is really, really hard to get right.

Varric was sitting in front of the fireplace in his usual spot in the hall, however unlike how things normally were, he wasn’t doing paperwork, writing letters or a story or even regaling a friend with a story, apocryphal or otherwise. Instead, he was sitting, staring silently into the fire as he sipped at a tankard of ale. He’d been doing this a lot since they’d returned from Adamant minus Hawke. He knew the Inquisitor and his friends were worried about him but they seemed inclined to give him space – except for when the Inquisitor had spoken to him and given him a much needed hug. He was glad of that space though. He didn’t blame the Inquisitor for the decision he’d made in the Fade but he needed time to let the wound in his heart heal a little.

“Ser Varric?”

Varric looked up to find one of the Inquisition soldiers standing beside the table, looking somewhat discomforted.

“Yeah?”

“Er… there’s someone at the gates who says he knows you. An elf called Fenris?”

Varric’s eyes widened and he fumbled the tankard back onto the table, ignoring the ale that slopped out. Fenris was _here_? He did some quick mental calculations. Last he’d heard Fenris was in Orlais, slaughtering every Tevinter slaver he could get his hands on. There was no way he could have gotten here so quickly after receiving Varric’s letter about the events at Adamant. Unless…

Unless he’d already been on his way here in pursuit of Hawke. In which case, there was a good chance he hadn’t received Varric’s letter. And that meant…

Varric shook his head to dismiss the thoughts. There was no point speculating. Best to just find out what Broody wanted.

“Thanks,” he said with a nod and a fairly decent facsimile of a smile. “I’ll go see what he wants.”

He hurried out of the hall and down the stairs, wincing a little at the biting cold outside. It was only mid-autumn and he wasn’t looking forward to finding out what winter was going to be like here. He might even need to button his shirt and wouldn’t that be a crying shame.

As he came down the stairs to the lower courtyard, he could see Fenris waiting impatiently with the guards at the gates. He didn’t hesitate to close the distance between them. He didn’t want the former slave getting too antsy. Fenris had a real gift for insulting people and these guards might not be as forgiving as their friends or Aveline’s guards, who had become accustomed to him. The elf was wearing his usual armour but in light of the weather, he was also swathed in a thick cloak. Varric also couldn’t help but notice that Fenris was wearing boots. Apparently even he was not willing risk his toes in all the show and ice. And from what he could see, Fenris still had the enormous sword Hawke had found for him. A Blade of Mercy or something, he thought it was called.

“Broody,” he said, aiming for something close to idle curiosity mixed with calm concern. He thought he mostly hit the mark. “What brings you to Skyhold?”

“Where is Hawke?” Fenris said without any preamble. He was scowling fiercely.

Varric dropped the attitude he’d feigned and winced. So too did everyone else who was close enough to hear that question. All of a sudden everyone who could think of something they needed to be doing elsewhere decided to go and _find_ that elsewhere. 

“You didn’t get my letter?” Varric asked carefully.

Fenris frowned and shook his head. “I have been staying off the roads and away from the villages. There are corrupted templars and Tevinter mages everywhere.”

“Right,” Varric said. He glanced around and then gestured to Fenris. “Look… there’s something I need to tell you but… not here.”

Fenris’ eyes narrowed. “What is it?”

“Look, just… come with me,” Varric said. This was something that both of them would not want done in public, even if Fenris didn’t realise that right now.

Fenris looked like he wanted to protest but Varric was already walking towards the stairs against the wall that formed a shortcut up to the upper courtyard and the tavern. Once inside the tavern, a quick word to Cabot got them a private room upstairs and Varric ushered Fenris inside and shut the door on the noise.

“Varric,” Fenris said sharply, his irritation now plainly obvious. “ _Where is Hawke_?”

Varric slumped where he stood. “Broody… Fenris…” He sighed. “Damn, I’m not good at this. Hawke… came with us to lay siege to Adamant and she came with the Inquisitor and the rest of us when he went to confront Warden-Commander Clarel. Things… happened and we were thrown into the Fade. _Really_ thrown into the Fade. Not just dreaming or anything like that. We managed to find a way out but the Nightmare demon came after us. Hawke… stayed behind to buy us enough time to escape.” His voice broke on that last word and he cleared his throat before he continued, “I’m sorry, Fenris. She… she’s dead.”

He looked up at Fenris, expecting an explosion, expecting anger and recriminations and a demand for more explanation. Instead he had the rather horrific experience of watching Fenris just… _break_ right before his eyes, of watching something inside the elf just visibly _shatter_. Looking at that, he couldn’t help but recall what Fenris had said to Hawke in the Gallows before it all went down with Orsino and Meredith.

_“Promise me you won’t die? I can’t bear the thought of living without you.”_

“Fenris?” he said, his voice choked and he stepped forward and reached out to take hold of the elf’s arm.

It was as though the contact broke Fenris out of whatever had been holding him so still. He lashed out, catching Varric around the side of the head with his gauntlet and knocking him to the floor. Varric was so startled at the unexpected attack that he didn’t even tried to defend himself. The blow left him lying half-stunned on the floor. He didn’t hear the light footsteps running away from the room or the heavier ones that approached not long afterward.

“Hey, dwarf… Dammit!”

Varric felt someone lifting him up into a sitting position and the room swam before his eyes for a moment before clearing enough to let him see Iron Bull looming over him with a look of concern on his face. He also noticed there was a distinct lack of Fenris in the room.

“Andraste’s tits!” he said, wincing as his head thumped. “Where did Fenris go?”

“The elf with the markings and the big sword?” Bull rumbled. “He went haring out of the tavern, looking like a demon was on his heels.”

“Shit,” Varric swore, levering himself to his feet. His head was still ringing but that didn’t matter right now. “Come on, we have to find him.”

“You should go and find someone to look at your head,” Bull said, poking at Varric’s temple. He showed the dwarf his finger, which had some blood on it. “What happened?”

Varric scowled. “Explanations later. Find Fenris now.”

He was honestly a little scared that Fenris might want to demand explanations of the Inquisitor and if that happened and Adaerion revealed that he was the one who had chosen Hawke to stay… well, Fenris’ temper could get the better of him at times and no one wanted Fenris ripping the Inquisitor’s heart out in a fit of broody heartbroken pique.

He ran slightly unsteadily out of the tavern with Bull on his heels and grabbed the first person in the courtyard he found, which thankfully turned out to be Scout Harding. A sharp woman with sharper eyes. 

“Harding! Did you see an elf run past?”

Harding looked at him with surprise then frowned with concern. “You’re hurt.”

“Never mind that,” Varric snapped, gaining a look of surprise from Harding. A large hand rested briefly on his shoulder and he took a deep breath to calm himself down. “It doesn’t matter right now, Harding. Where did the elf go?”

“Down to the lower courtyard, towards the gates,” Harding replied. “He was running pretty fast.”

“Thanks,” Varric said over his shoulder as he headed for the gates.

When he got to there, he found some very confused guards who were only too willing to tell him that Fenris had gone running out of Skyhold before they could say or do anything.

“Andraste’s knickers,” Varric growled under his breath.

“ _Now_ will you go to the healer?” Iron Bull asked, sounding faintly amused. “You’re not going to catch up with the elf on those short legs.”

“I know,” Varric growled, much to the surprise of the guards, who were far more used to him cracking jokes. Varric ignored them and turned towards the castle. Bull followed and he scowled up at the Qunari. “Are you going to play mother hen now?”

“Until I’m sure you’re not going to collapse, yes,” Bull replied calmly. “The boss likes you and he’d be annoyed with me if I let you fall face first onto the ground.”

Varric ignored that and headed back into the hall. He took a sharp right through the door near his usual table and headed for the stairs. Behind him Bull followed, taking a moment to shrug at Solas’ curious look. Varric headed straight up to Leliana’s rookery and halted in front of her table.

“Nightingale, I need a favour.”

Leliana raised an eyebrow then frowned with concern when she saw the wound on his head. “I think you need a healer as well.”

“That’s what I said,” Bull said from where he was leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs. “He’s in a lather though and won’t listen to anyone.”

“I know your people are busy but do you have one or two to spare to follow Fenris?” Varric said, ignoring the back and forth.

“Fenris?” Leliana said with surprise. “I’d heard he’d arrived. Why does he need watching?”

“Because he’s gone,” Varric replied. “He hadn’t got my letter about Hawke and I had to tell him.” He sighed and slumped a little. “He took off. Whacked me round the head, probably to slow me down or just because… I don’t know, I startled him or something. It wasn’t malicious anyway. He took off and he’s gone. Nightingale, I just want to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. I don’t want your people to stop him or try and bring him back. He probably wouldn’t react well to that. Just…”

Leliana smiled sadly. “I think I can spare a couple of people for that, Varric. Leave it with me.”

Varric gave a sigh of relief and Leliana came round the table. She gave the side of his head a close look and then turned a stern look on him. “And in return, _you_ will go to the healers and have your head looked at.”

“I’ll make sure he gets there,” Bull said. The Qunari sounded sympathetic.

“Alright,” Varric said, knowing he wasn’t going to get out of it. “Just… let me know.”

“I will,” Leliana replied as Bull gave Varric a nudge and they headed down the stairs.

******

Leliana was as good as her word. Over the next few weeks, she kept him informed of the reports her scouts sent in. Fenris was heading west, slaughtering every red templar and Venatori mage he came across. He was leaving so many bodies in his wake that the Inquisitor quipped that if he was going to do so much of the Inquisition’s work for them, they ought to send money and supplies to him. Cullen, Josephine and Leliana thought that wasn’t a half bad idea and put their heads together about whether it was feasible. Fenris was moving fast.

Nearly four weeks had passed since Fenris had come to Skyhold and then left so precipitously when Leliana stopped by Varric’s table on her way to the War Room.

“I think you should come with me,” was all she would say and Varric had little choice but to follow.

Cullen, Josephine and the Inquisitor were waiting in the War Room and they looked surprised to see Varric follow Leliana into the room.

“I have a report that Varric needs to hear as well,” Leliana said, answering their unspoken question.

“By all means,” Adaerion said with a small gesture.

“I received a report from Lieutenant Aclassi of the Chargers,” Leliana said with any further preamble. “As you know, they’re working to neutralise any remaining problems at Adamant. Lieutenant Aclassi reports that Fenris turned up a few days ago. He’s not caused any trouble and they’ve let him be. He has been staying in the place where the rift was. They’re keeping an eye on him.”

“Adamant? Damn,” Varric said, running a hand down his face. “I should…”

“ _We_ should go there,” Adaerion finished for him. “I’m not sure what we can do for him but… he might appreciate your company at least.”

Varric gave the Inquisitor a small smile. “Thanks.”

“We’ll head out this afternoon,” Adaerion said with a nod. “Can you let… uh, Cassandra and Dorian know?”

Varric raised an eyebrow. “You want Dorian?”

Adaerion cocked his head slightly. “Is there a reason he shouldn’t come?”

“Fenris… was a slave in Tevinter,” Varric explained. “To a magister. Now, Dorian’s absolutely nothing like Danarius but Fenris might not be in the mood to acknowledge the differences right now.”

“Ah, I see,” Adaerion said with understanding. “Then… ask Solas if he would accompany us, please. I’ll explain things to Dorian.”

There were some sudden smothered smiles in the room. Everyone knew that as much as Dorian complained about being dragged out into the mud and rain and savagery of Southern Thedas, he complained even more when Adaerion left him behind in Skyhold. While Adaerion and Dorian weren’t open about their relationship, everyone knew anyway and the general opinion was that they were _adorable_.

“Alright,” Varric said before leaving the room. Adaerion immediately turned to the war table and started making arrangements for his absence.

They left Skyhold mid-afternoon, mounted on the best horses – or pony in Varric’s case – that the stables could provide. Varric had seen Dorian pouting in the entrance to the hall but his mind was more on where they were going than what they were leaving. He supposed he should have guessed where Fenris might be heading but his mind had been more caught up on what Fenris had said to Hawke in the Gallows and he’d feared the worst. But Fenris was at Adamant and so were the Chargers. He trusted Bull’s people to keep an eye on Fenris and not let him to do anything stupid.

They rode hard, pushing the horses and pony as much as they dared, and got to the Western Approach in good time. From there, it was only a short trip to Adamant and they found Krem waiting for them. They took one look at the man’s face and quickly dismounted.

“Krem?” Adaerion asked anxiously.

“Boss, you’d better come and see this,” the mercenary said. He looked stunned and baffled and a bit awed. “You’re not going to believe it unless you see it.”

“Oookay,” Adaerion replied and they followed Krem into the fortress to the Chargers’ camp, where they all came to sudden and abrupt halt, unable to believe what was before their eyes.

******

Fenris had little memory of how he had crossed Southern Thedas to reach the Western Approach. He’d been lost in a haze since Varric had told him of Hawke’s death and he hadn’t wanted to drag himself out of it. Instead he’d struck down Varric – something he would have to find a way to apologise for – and run. When he’d stumbled across the first group of red templars he hadn’t hesitated to attack them, even though he was hideously outnumbered. He hadn’t cared if he lived or died. His brash attack had startled the templars though and nearly half had fallen before they’d manage to organise themselves. Picking off the other half had been easy.

He hadn’t avoided any fight that had come his way as he’d run. While he wasn’t sure if he was _actively_ seeking death, he certainly wasn’t going out of his way to avoid it as he had on his journey to Skyhold. But somehow, he’d reached the Western Approach and from there, Adamant. There had been soldiers there, mercenaries from the look of them, though they were working under the Inquisition’s banner, but they hadn’t gotten in his way. All they’d done was quietly direct him to where the rift had been and where Hawke had died. He wondered whether they’d known he was coming. Maybe they had but he didn’t care.

He’d been here in this courtyard ever since. He sat here during the day and slept here at night. He wasn’t sure what he was going to achieve by being here but he couldn’t bring himself to leave either. This was where Hawke had died. Staying in the Fade in what was surely a stupidly noble action that probably hadn’t been required. He wanted to rant and rail, to utter curses at her stupidity, at his stupidity for letting her run off without him, but he could find no words, not even a simple thank you for the mercenaries who brought him food. It was as though all his words had been lost with her.

It was the wash of strange magic over his brands that brought him out of his reverie. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before and it felt… _wrong_ somehow. Unnatural. He scrambled to his feet, drawing his sword automatically and looking around for the source of the magic. He heard one of the mercenaries – they always kept one nearby, unobtrusive but simply _there_ if needed – shout something but he was too busy looking around.

Suddenly the air in front of him glowed green and a rift opened up. He stumbled backwards and fell, his sword falling from his hands with a loud clanging sound. Then someone was falling from the rift and he scrambled forward on his hands and knees. For he recognised that someone. It was _Hawke_.

He gathered her up in his arms and looked down. She was battered and bruised and there were wounds bleeding sluggishly on her thigh and stomach but she was _alive_. He looked up at the rift and saw a figure standing there. A _spirit_. It was glowing and he could not make out any features.

“The world is in chaos,” it said, its voice echoing around the courtyard. The voice was oddly familiar but he couldn’t quite place it right at that moment. “This was not what was intended. There is no justice in it, only vengeance and hate and death.” The figure sounded sorrowful, then it gestured towards Hawke. “But there is some justice in this.” It turned away and said over its shoulder, “Tell her… do not regret what was done. We are both at peace now.”

The figure disappeared and the rift convulsed then closed. It didn’t disappear though, it still pulsed and throbbed in the air but it was closed nonetheless. Fenris stared at it for a moment then he scooped Hawke up in his arms and got to his feet.

One of the mercenaries seemed to almost materialise next to him. The Dalish woman picked up the sword that had fallen then gestured towards one of the entrances. “We have our camp set up over here. Stitches will look after her.”

Fenris nodded, still unable to find any words, and went where he was led. He was directed to a tent that had apparently been set aside for him and he gently lowered Hawke to the bedroll inside. Another of the mercenaries ducked inside with enough paraphernalia with him that Fenris knew this was the Stitches the other mercenary had spoken of. He took a moment to remove his armour, leaving him in a simple shirt and breeches, then sat back on his heels and watched as the man set to work with his salves and potions and needle and thread. When he was done, the man – Stitches – looked over at him.

“She’ll be fine. Maker only knows how.” He shook his head, looking amazed. “Make sure she rests when she wakes up. I don’t want her tearing those stitches.”

Fenris nodded again and as the man made his way out of the tent, he finally found the words that had been lost with Hawke. It seemed only right that they came back to him along with her. 

“Thank you.”

The mercenary nodded and left them alone. Fenris immediately shifted, gently gathering Hawke into his arms and simply waiting. As he did, he felt all the tension and despair that had filled him over the last weeks slowly begin to fade. She was alive. She was here. He chose not to consider who or what that had been in the rift. He would do that later, once he was sure she was going to wake and be fine.

How long he waited, he did not know. He knew that periodically one of the mercenaries would look in on them but he paid them no mind. They didn’t seem perturbed by his almost aggressive ignoring of them. In fact, they seemed more amused by it than anything else.

When Hawke groaned and her eyelids fluttered, he gently stroked her cheek. “Hawke.”

She opened her eyes and stared up at him blearily. Then she frowned and drew in a sharp breath before swearing vociferously.

Fenris chuckled. “Eloquent.”

“Where am I?” Hawke demanded, trying to sit up. He tightened his arms around her, stopping her. “Who are you? What kind of demon?”

“You are in Adamant, not the Fade,” Fenris replied. “You were returned to… me.”

Hawke went still. “Returned? How?”

“I… do not know,” Fenris said hesitantly, still caressing her cheek. He finally sighed and voiced the opinion he’d come to during the long wait for her to wake. “I think it was… Justice.”

Hawke drew in a breath and flinched. Fenris drew his fingers along her jawline. He didn’t share her feelings regarding Anders’ fate. As far as he was concerned, she’d done the right thing in putting down a mad dog. But she had always had second thoughts about her actions. She’d always had regrets and self-recriminations. 

“It said to tell you… do not regret what was done. We are both at peace now.”

Tears filled Hawke’s eyes and slipped down the side of her head into her hair. Then she reached up and caressed his cheek.

“How can you still be here? After what I did. After I left.”

Fenris leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. “Hawke… Marian… I am yours. That will _never_ change.” He hesitated and forced out the words he had always found so difficult to say, even if he felt the emotion behind them to an extent he’d never thought possible. “I… love you.”

“ _Fenris_.” She pulled him into a kiss, which he was more than happy to return. It turned heated for a moment before Hawke shifted then suddenly pulled away, gasping with pain and grabbing at her stomach.

“Damn, that hurts.”

Fenris chuckled. “You should rest. There… there is time now.”

Hawke’s smile was genuine but it was also tinged with regret and apology. “I know.”

“And you will never do that again.”

Now she laughed. It was soft and so very welcome to Fenris. 

“Got it. No running off, leaving just a note. Next time I run off, you’re coming with me,” she said as she pulled at him and drew him down to lie with her.

“Exactly,” Fenris said as he pulled a blanket over and covered them both. He shifted so that they were both more comfortable and smiled as Hawke sighed happily.

******

“ _Hawke_ ,” Varric said as he stared at something that should be impossible. He wasn’t ashamed that his voice broke and he went a little weak at the knees. Hawke was sitting outside one of the tents in the Chargers’ camp, wrapped in Fenris’ arms as he was sitting behind her acting as a back rest. She looked bruised and tired but happy and apparently entirely disinclined to move from where she was. He couldn’t blame her. Fenris looked like he never intended to let her go ever again.

“Hey, Varric,” she said with a lopsided smile. “You look like you should come and sit down before you fall down.”

Varric was more than happy to do so and he all but collapsed on the ground next to Hawke. The others followed and sat down with them.

“Hawke… _how_?” Varric couldn’t articulate it any better.

“I have no idea,” she replied with a shrug and shake of her head. “I… don’t remember much after I started attacking the Nightmare demon. As for how I got back, well, Fenris knows better than I do.”

All eyes turned to the elf. He grimaced then looked at Varric. “I… apologise, Varric. I…”

Varric waved a hand and grinned. “Ah, don’t worry about it, Broody. No harm was done. I’m a dwarf. My head’s too hard for anything other than several rocks falling on it to get hurt. Just tell me what happened.”

Fenris gave him a long look then nodded once. “I know very little about what happened. I was in the courtyard and… a rift appeared. It opened and Hawke fell through. There was a figure in the rift and it spoke to me. It said that the world was in chaos and that was not what was intended, that there was no justice in that, only vengeance, hate and death. Then it said there was some justice in returning Hawke.” He chose not to pass on the message meant for Hawke.

“Justice?” Varric said with surprise. “As in Anders’ Justice?”

“I… believe so,” Fenris said with a sour look on his face that made Varric and Hawke chuckle.

“Is the rift still there?” Adaerion asked, leaning forward intently.

Fenris frowned at the Dalish elf and his gaze then flicked over to Varric. The dwarf read the look for what it meant.

“I never had time to introduce you,” he said dryly. “Fenris, this is the Inquisitor, Adaerion Lavellan.” He gestured to Cassandra and Solas. “That’s Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast and that’s Solas.”

Fenris inclined his head slightly. “Yes, the rift is still there but it is closed.”

“I’ll have to fix that properly and close it for good,” Adaerion muttered.

“Before we do, I would like to know more about Justice,” Solas said, looking curious. “I have not often met spirits of Justice.”

Fenris snarled silently and Hawke chuckled and patted his arm. “Why don’t we let me handle this? I shudder to think what kind of summary you’d give.”

Fenris grumbled something under his breath that made Hawke laugh again then he said more audibly, “Be my guest.”

“I didn’t get the full story but Justice was a spirit that got accidentally pulled out of the Fade when the Hero of Fereldan dealt with some sort of situation in the Blackmarsh not long after the Blight ended,” Hawke said. “Justice got somehow dumped into the corpse of a Grey Warden the Hero had been looking for and stuck around because he had no way of getting back to the Fade. At some point, his… er, tenancy in the Grey Warden’s body became unworkable and Anders, well-meaning fool that he was, offered to… host the spirit.”

Solas winced. “That… was not wise. Spirits do not cope well with humans. Humans are too changeable for the absoluteness that is a spirit. Demons simply possess and take the body for themselves but a spirit… it could not have gone well.”

Hawke sighed. “No, it didn’t. Particularly as Anders was… angry. At the Circles, the Chantry, at how mages were treated over all. Justice became Vengeance and… it became impossible to know where Anders stopped and Justice… or Vengeance… began.” A look of sorrow crossed her face. “By the end, when he blew up the Chantry, I’m honestly not sure how much of Anders was still there.”

“You… executed him, did you not?” Adaerion asked gently.

Hawke nodded and looked very troubled. “Yes. I… thought it was the right thing to do at the time. I’ve doubted that decision more than any other I’ve ever made.”

Fenris somehow managed to refrain from snorting or otherwise inserting his opinion but Hawke looked up at him with faint amusement, as though she knew what he was thinking. Which she most likely did. It wasn’t like he’d often held back his opinions about the Abomination.

“But… Fenris told me that the spirit that… that returned me said that I shouldn’t regret that decision, that they’re both at peace now.”

“Lucky them,” Varric said dryly then he relented. “Ah, well, I suppose they both never had much peace in life.”

Hawke smiled sadly. “Yes. I’m glad Justice made it back to the Fade anyway. From what I know, it wasn’t his choice to be here and he… coped as best as he could.”

“That is quite generous of you,” Solas replied. “Given it was Vengeance that likely drove Anders to his madness.”

“If I understand my own reading correctly and add it to what you just said, it was more a case of good intentions going the way they always tend to rather than genuine malice,” Hawke said. She sighed and snuggled back against Fenris, seeking some comfort. And while he had no sympathy for Anders, he was more than willing to provide that comfort to her. “What’s done is done, Solas. Neither of us can change it and recriminations are pointless.”

Solas inclined his head, conceding the point. In his wake, Adaerion leaned forward again. “Will you come back to Skyhold with us? You’re obviously injured and we’d certainly welcome you. _Both_ of you. And your help, if you’re willing to offer it.”

Hawke opened her mouth to reply then seemed to notice Fenris had gone very still behind her. She looked up at him then raised an eyebrow at the Inquisitor. “We were hunting down slavers.”

“I can offer you Venatori mages instead?” Adaerion said with a hopeful smile. “Tevinter magisters?”

Hawke raised an eyebrow at Fenris and he rolled his eyes. “I could tolerate killing magisters as long as we can still kill the slavers if we come across them.”

Hawke grinned at him, completely undisturbed at his bloodthirsty plans for the slavers. Mostly because she agreed with them. “Alright, Inquisitor, we’re in.”

“Uh…” Varric said, raising both eyebrows at Adaerion and tilting his head.

“Oh, yeah,” Adaerion said, looking at Fenris now. “We have a Tevinter mage working with us. He’s not a magister. An Altus, apparently. He’s on our side and I, for one, would really appreciate you not killing him because he’s mine and I’m his and I’ll get cross if I lose him now.”

Varric snorted with amusement. “Hell of a way to tell him.”

“I could sugar coat it but that wouldn’t really achieve anything,” Adaerion replied with a grin.

Fenris actually felt faintly amused. This Inquisitor was not what he expected of such a personage nor what he might have expected of a Dalish elf. In fact, Adaerion actually made him feel slightly curious about this Tevinter mage. Then part of what Adaerion said sunk in. “You are… together? Openly?”

“Well…” Adaerion prevaricated.

“Yes,” Cassandra said bluntly though there was a gleam of humour in her eyes. “They think they are being discreet but we all know. The maids say they are adorable.”

Adaerion looked surprised and he gaped at Cassandra for a moment before he switched to looking slightly outraged. “Wait… everyone _knows_?”

“Yes,” Solas said dryly. “Neither of you is as subtle as you think you are and if you will recall where I am and where Dorian chooses to spend much of his time?”

“Oh, and here we thought we were doing so well at being secretive,” Adaerion said, looking nonplussed. He shrugged and smiled wryly as he looked back at Fenris. “Apparently the answer to your question is yes. Why do you ask?” He drew in a breath and let it out. “Oh, wait… you’re from Tevinter. So… you know.”

“Know what?” Hawke asked curiously, looking between them.

“Two men could never be together openly in Tevinter,” Fenris replied. “It is considered shameful. It might be considered vaguely tolerable if the man was using a slave for his pleasure though.”

There was a collection of winces at the word ‘using’ and its implications. The others were surprised to see the glower that appeared on Hawke’s face. They wondered what had prompted it. They didn’t get a chance to ask any questions.

“So he’s an exile,” Hawke said. She gave Fenris an impish look. “You wouldn’t kill a Tevinter exile who’s helping the Inquisition and is the Inquisitor’s lover, would you? I’ll make it worth your while.” She waggled her eyebrows ridiculously, clearly trying to look seductive and failing miserably.

Fenris gave her a look of fond exasperation. “I’m sure I could manage to refrain.”

Adaerion chuckled. “Well, thank you for that.” He got to his feet gracefully and gestured to the others who also got to their feet and started drawing their weapons. “Come on, we’d better take care of this rift.”

Fenris shifted slightly. “I could help…”

Adaerion waved his hand and grinned. “No, stay where you are. Hawke looks very comfortable right where she is.”

“Thank you,” Hawke said, returning that grin. “I am rather comfortable. Though give a yell if you need his help. I’m willing to give up my back rest if it’s needed.”

“Good to know,” Adaerion said as he lead the others away.

Fenris watched them walk towards the courtyard where the rift was then raised an eyebrow at Hawke. “So we have joined the Inquisition?”

“So it seems,” she replied, curling up a little more in his embrace. “You know, it’ll be nice to not be the one everyone comes to with a problem to be solved. I could get used to it.”


	8. Pretty Men - Male Mage Trevelyan Inquisitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently Drake wanted more written about him. This is very silly. I warn you. Very silly and a bit fluffy. Drake, Leliana and Josephine get drunk and talk about pretty men. Cullen is long-suffering and amused and offers good advice while telling everyone he’s bad at giving advice.

Dorian Pavus was ridiculously good-looking. Drake Trevelyan had eyes – very good eyes, in fact – and so Dorian’s salient features were very obvious to him. Had Dorian simply been a pretty face, Drake might have admired him from afar, enjoyed him up close and that would have been that. But Dorian was far more than just a pretty face. He was intelligent, witty and very, very skilled at magic. He was, in actual fact, quite the irresistible package all round.

He was also rather young. The moustache added a few years to be sure but Drake would put the Tevinter mage’s age at mid-twenties and no more than that. Or in other words, a good twenty years younger than Drake himself. Which was why he was walking away from the young man towards the Chantry and wondering whether anyone in there would stop him if he found a quiet corner and just… banged his head against the wall for a while.

He hadn’t _intended_ to flirt with Dorian when he’d gone to speak with him after they’d arrived back in Haven from Redcliffe. He’d simply gone over to make sure Dorian was settling in okay and had a bed and no one was making rude signs at him behind his back. The flirtatious remarks – and there _had_ been more than one so the plural was justified – had just… slipped out without his permission.

And yes, Dorian had flirted back but Drake was sure that was more just habit than because he was actually interested. The young man could hardly be interested in a battered old Circle mage who was twice his age. That was just flatly ridiculous.

“Herald! Watch out!”

Drake dragged himself out of his thoughts just in time to stop himself from tripping over the ropes securing Leliana’s tent. The Spymaster was looking at him with some amusement.

“That was close,” he said, raising his eyebrows and plastering a comical expression on his face. “Having the Herald of Andraste go sprawling on his face would be very undignified.”

“Indeed,” Leliana replied, still looking amused. “Were you coming to see me?”

Drake looked around then shook his head. “I… no. I was just a little lost in my thoughts and apparently my feet decided to conspire to kill me. Or at least trip me up.”

Leliana smiled and set aside the papers she’d been holding. “Can I help with the thoughts that prompted your feet to become mildly homicidal?”

“Probably not,” he said ruefully. “Just… there’s no fool like an old fool.”

Leliana cocked her head slightly then looked in the direction he’d come from. A tiny knowing smile now curled her lips. “He’s very pretty.”

Drake pretended to look confused. “Solas? I don’t know, Leliana. Bald heads have never really done much for me but if that’s where your tastes lie, I won’t judge.”

That drew a laugh from her and Drake mentally patted himself on the back. The Left Hand of the Divine was a very formidable woman but she had also clearly been taking the Divine’s death very hard and he rather liked the idea that he could lighten her day just a little.

She now linked arms with him and guided them towards the Chantry. “I think for that, you deserve to join me in raiding Josie’s meagre supply of good wine.”

“Well now, I won’t say no to that,” Drake said eagerly. “Not that I don’t appreciate the swill that Flissa serves at the tavern. It’s the best swill I’ve had in a long time. But every now and then, a man gets hankering for the finer things in life.”

“We only source the _finest_ swill for the Inquisition,” Leliana said with mock-reproof. 

Drake placed his free hand over his heart. “I stand corrected.”

Leliana knocked on the door of Josephine’s office then opened it. “Josie, break out the keys. We’re liberating a couple of bottles of your good wine.”

Josephine raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? And what is the occasion?”

“The Herald needs something tangible to regret tomorrow morning.”

Josephine laughed and got to her feet. “Are we joining him in those regrets?”

“I did say two bottles.”

“I think we’ll need three.”

In fairly short order, three bottles had indeed been liberated, goblets had been found and cleaned and the three of them were ensconced in Josephine’s quarters in the Chantry with the door firmly closed. Leliana poured the wine and the three of them savoured their first sips of the deep red liquid.

“This _is_ the good stuff,” Drake said with satisfaction.

“So what is the intangible thing that our Herald is going to regret tomorrow?” Josephine asked slyly.

“Drake.” The mage pointed a finger at the two women. “If I’m going to get drunk and spill all my secrets to you two terrifying women, the least you could do is call me by my name.”

“Terrifying?” Leliana looked smug. “Are we terrifying, Josie?”

“I don’t know about me but you certainly are,” Josephine said promptly.

“Oh, good. As for Drake’s intangible regret…” Leliana smirked. “If my guess is right, he’s been flirting with our latest recruit.”

Drake turned to Josephine and raised an eyebrow at her. “See? Terrifying. I wasn’t even in her line of sight and she knows.”

Josephine giggled and sipped at her wine. “Why would you regret flirting with Dorian? He’s very handsome.”

Drake groaned and ran a hand down his face. “He is, isn’t he? He’s also very young.”

“Not _that_ young,” Leliana said.

“ _Too_ young,” Drake insisted, almost gulping down his wine. “He can’t be more than… twenty-six? Twenty-seven at the most?”

“That’s not that young,” Josephine said.

Drake sighed. “Twenty years younger than me.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Leliana said with a shrug. “If you’re interested and he’s interested, what does it matter? You’re not in a Circle and he’s not your student.”

“I still feel like a lecher,” Drake said ruefully. “I shouldn’t be lusting after handsome young men.”

Josephine laughed. “Is it just his looks you like?”

“He’s dreadfully intelligent as well,” Drake said. “It’s utterly unfair that he’s smart _and_ funny _and_ incredibly skilled at magic as well as good-looking. It’s like someone’s taunting me.”

“Or the Maker is offering you a reward for your forbearance in being an unwitting part of his schemes,” Leliana said with a laugh as she leaned companionably against Josephine. The wine was disappearing quickly.

“I don’t really want to think of Dorian as being a reward,” Drake said with a small frown. “That’s a bit demeaning. Though I suppose I could accept that maybe the Maker has… _wafted_ him in my direction and the rest is up to me.”

“A-ha!” Leliana pointed a finger at him. “So you do intend to pursue him.”

“What?” Drake looked slightly alarmed. “No! Actually, yes… well, no… ugh.” He made a frustrated sound. “I don’t know?”

A knock came at the door and they all turned to look at it as though staring at the door could tell them who was there.

“Oh!” Josephine finally said. “Who is it?”

“It’s Commander Cullen,” came the muffled response from the other side.

“Now, speaking of pretty men,” Leliana murmured mischievously causing both Drake and Josephine to laugh.

“Come in,” Josephine called out through her giggles.

The door opened and the Commander walked in. He raised an eyebrow at their half-inebriated state then sighed. “Maybe now isn’t a good time.”

“No, no,” Leliana said, pointing a finger at him before reaching over and pouring him a glass of wine. “You’ve come in and seen the incriminating evidence. You have to stay now so that we can implicate you as well.” 

Cullen tried to hide a smile for a moment before relenting and joining them. “Well… one glass then. I… don’t drink much.”

“Besides,” Leliana continued blithely. “We were talking about pretty men and you definitely qualify.”

Cullen choked on the sip of wine he’d taken and blushed. “I… uh… Maybe I should…”

“He _is_ very pretty,” Josephine said, eyeing Cullen speculatively and causing his blush to deepen. “I applaud Cassandra on her taste.”

Now it was Drake’s turn to choke on his wine at the idea that aesthetics had been Cassandra’s primary thought when recruiting Cullen.

“You agree with me, of course, Drake,” Josephine said to him with a gleam in her eye that said she was enjoying teasing Cullen very much.

In light of that, Drake gave Cullen a considering look. “Of course, Josephine. The Commander is a fine figure of a man. Cassandra has _excellent_ taste.” 

He couldn’t control the smirk that curved his lips and he saw Cullen sigh and resign himself to the teasing. The Commander didn’t seem upset by it though, just resigned and slightly amused.

“I’m sure I’m going to regret this but _why_ were you talking about… pretty men?” Cullen asked.

“Drake’s lusting after our pretty Tevinter mage but thinks he’s too old,” Leliana said brightly. “Which of course is ridiculous, isn’t it, Commander?”

Cullen sighed. “I was right. I am regretting asking that question.”

“I’m not _lusting_ after Dorian,” Drake protested. “I just appreciate his many fine qualities.” He paused for a beat. “I am too old for him though.”

“I… uh…” Cullen took a gulp of his wine as if to fortify himself. “I’m… not exactly the best person to give advice on this but… wouldn’t the assessment of whether or not you’re too old be something that Dorian needs to make?”

There was a moment of silence then both Leliana and Josephine began giggling.

“See!” Leliana crowed, waggling a finger at Drake. “Even the Commander is on our side. No! You have to give in now. Your lusting after Dorian is officially sanctioned by all.”

There was little more Drake could do at that point than laugh. Leliana and Josephine had taken his incipient bout of self-pity and torn it to shreds. Even Cullen had gotten in on the act, albeit with more sincerity and less teasing than the ladies.

“Alright, alright, I give up,” he said. “I’ll stop saying I’m too old for him if you ladies keep your noses out of this and let me handle it how I want.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Leliana asked then Josephine nudged her in the ribs and she sighed. “Oh, alright, Drake. But if we see signs of you backsliding, we’ll take steps.”

“On that note, I think I’ll take my leave,” Cullen said dryly as he finished his glass of wine and got to his feet.

Drake stood and wavered for a moment as his head swam then steadied. “I think I’ll join you, Commander. If I stay here any longer, these devious ladies will have me doing all sorts of things I probably shouldn’t think about.” He paused and frowned. “And I think I need an escort back to my cabin. I may be a little drunk.”

Cullen chuckled. “I think you _are_ a little drunk.”

Drake grinned then gave a florid bow to Josephine and Leliana that only succeeded because Cullen grabbed his arm and stopped him from planting himself face first into the floor.

“Thank you, Commander,” he said with as much aplomb as he could manage. “Ladies, thank you for the wine and I shall surely curse you in the morning.”

Leliana and Josephine said their goodbyes in chorus and Drake staggered out of the room with Cullen in close escort as they made their way out of the Chantry and through the now-dark village. The Commander walked silently alongside him, occasionally reaching out to stop him from falling over or knocking into things. When they reached Drake’s cabin, he pushed open the door then leaned against the doorway.

“Do you think I’m being foolish, Cullen?”

The Commander had been turning to leave but now he looked back at Drake. “I… well…” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “As I said, I’m not really the right person to give advice on this but… is there anything wrong with being happy?”

Drake considered that for a moment then smiled. “I don’t know. I think you’re doing alright with the advice.”

Cullen chuckled. “Thank you.” He nodded towards the interior of the cabin. “You should probably get some sleep, Herald.”

“I shall. Good night, Commander.” Drake waved and let himself stagger into the cabin and fall face first on the bed. He would surely regret this in the morning but for now… he had a little peace of mind.


	9. Attached - Unrequited Male Warrior Trevelyan/Cullen Rutherford

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this was just a bit of fun that came to mind after finding out that Cullen was originally going to be bi in the game but that they ran out of time to do the animations. Of course, you can still flirt with him, though it doesn’t go anywhere and this fic… well, I suppose it doesn’t precisely contradict game canon as it’s one character’s point of view and she may or may not be right.

Maxwell’s first thought on seeing Commander Cullen is ‘damn fine warrior’. His second thought, which occurs after the small battle near the Temple of Sacred Ashes is over and that particular rift is closed, is ‘damn fine-looking man’. His third thought on seeing Commander Cullen doesn’t come until after he wakes up in Haven and they’re standing around the war table and Cullen has just mentioned he used to be a Templar and it is a far more wary ‘damn, he’s a Templar?’. Cullen’s use of the past tense doesn’t quite register at the time. Maxwell is not a mage but he has a sister who is and her tales of Templars make him hesitant.

Still, he flirts with him anyway. He can’t resist, even though he knows that Cullen is a Templar. Or was? That usage of the past tense in the war room comes back to him in the days afterward and he’s admittedly curious about it. He’s seen Templars who were expelled from the Order and they… don’t look like Cullen. Nor does Cullen seem like the sort to be expelled from the Order in the first place.

So he flirts. Because Cullen is handsome and kind and almost excruciatingly noble and frighteningly competent and well fit as Sera might say. He’s never really favoured blonds before but for Cullen he’ll make an exception, especially when the man blushes so deliciously at anything remotely resembling a compliment.

It occurs to him, when Cullen is stuttering his way through letting him down gently, that he probably also should have made sure Cullen was interested in men _before_ he started flirting. Before he started getting attached… and he _has_ gotten attached. He wasn’t sure he intended to but somewhere between idly flirting with Cullen on the practice grounds in Haven and setting up in Skyhold, he’s gotten attached. He refuses to consider it might be more than that, not with Cullen looking at him so anxiously in the wake of his oh-so-polite let down.

Maxwell forces a smile that he hopes looks reasonably normal. “Cullen, it’s alright. I hope we’re still friends?”

He keeps that smile plastered on his face as Cullen almost falls over his words assuring him that their friendship is solid. It’s not what he wants but it’s all he’s going to get and he’s going to have to learn to accept that. 

He claps Cullen on the shoulder and makes an excuse to head inside. Once he’s turned away, the smile falls apart and he endeavours to keep his walking pace normal and not break into a run. He walks through the hall and up to Vivienne’s little lair where he flops face down down on the chaise with a heartfelt groan.

“Well, that was very melodramatic, darling,” Vivienne says as she comes in and sits in the armchair. There’s a thread of fond amusement in her voice. “What’s troubling you?”

“Cullen doesn’t love me.”

A somewhat loaded silence greets that plaintive response and Maxwell huffs sulkily.

“You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?”

“I would never laugh about matters of the heart.”

Maxwell isn’t sure if she’s teasing him or being serious. It’s hard to tell from her tone of voice and he suspects that even if he were to turn around and look, her expression wouldn’t help him either.

“He doesn’t like men that way,” he groans instead, his voice slightly muffled by the cushions of the chaise.

“Is that what he said?”

Maxwell nods as best as he can with his face planted where it is and completely misses the hint of surprise in Vivienne’s voice.

“How interesting.”

 _Now_ he can interpret her tone of voice and that curl of coy amusement has him sitting up in a heartbeat.

“What’s interesting?”

The coy, almost sly, amusement is obvious on her face now as she speaks. “For someone who has no interest in men, Commander Cullen spends a great deal of time watching you. Your backside in particular.”

Maxwell gapes at her as a spark of hope kindles in his chest. “He does?”

Vivienne waves towards the balcony. “I see much from my vantage point, my dear, and the Commander is no Orlesian to be hiding what he feels from someone as skilled in the Game as myself.”

Maxwell frowns. “So… why would he say he isn’t interested?”

“Perhaps he thinks he shouldn’t be, my dear,” Vivienne replies airily. “Or perhaps he thinks you are not serious about it. Either way, I wouldn’t give up hope.” She smiled slyly again. “Perhaps he simply needs to be coaxed?”

A slow smile spreads across Maxwell’s face that that thought and he all but leaps to his feet with the determination to coax his Commander. He hurries over and kisses the mage’s cheek. “Vivienne, you’re a treasure! What would I do without you?”

Vivienne’s smile is secretive and pleased. “I don’t know, darling, but if your taste in fashion is anything to go by, something truly terrible.”


	10. I Hate You - Male Mage Hawke/Fenris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I spent an evening trawling through the fenhawke tag on tumblr and gathering Fenris/Hawke _feels_. So that where this one comes from. Also I just adore the ‘Fenris chases after Hawke because _of course_ he would, are you mad, do you really think he’d tolerate being left behind’ trope.

Hawke leaned against the wall of Skyhold and watched the Inquisition’s soldiers sparring. He felt stiff and sore from the injuries he’d received in the Fade and for now was content to simply bask in the sun. He would have to leave soon to head to Weisshaupt but that could wait until he could stand up straight on his own for more than fifteen minutes.

“I see the healers finally let you out of their clutches.”

Hawke turned to see the Inquisitor approaching. Adaerion Lavellen looked like he was all of twelve with his eager baby face but Hawke knew enough about the Dalish to know that no twelve year old would have vallaslin. He also knew enough about the Inquisitor now to know that Adaerion was almost twenty. Still young, especially for the position he held but Lavellen didn’t have much control over that.

“Thank the Maker,” he said with a wry grin. “I appreciate their work but I hate being injured.”

Adaerion chuckled and leaned against the wall next to Hawke. “I know how you feel.” He raised an eyebrow at Hawke. “I hope you don’t plan on running off to Weisshaupt too soon. The healers get really stroppy when you undo their good work.”

Hawke laughed then winced and grabbed at the half-healed wound on his side. “No, I’ll behave.” He grunted. “It’s times like this that I miss Anders.”

Adaerion was silent for a moment. “Do… do you regret what you did?” Now it was his turn to wince. “No, don’t answer that. I’m being an ass.”

“It’s alright,” Hawke said with a sigh. “I do regret it. I was angry and frustrated and had Meredith breathing down my neck and I… made a decision that seemed right at the time but…” He grimaced. “Now I’m not so sure.”

Adaerion nodded. “Sounds like how I feel half the time.”

“I don’t envy you being Inquisitor.”

Adaerion arched an eyebrow and looked amused. “You know Cassandra wanted you for the job?”

“What?” Hawke gave the elf a look of disbelief. “Why?”

“You’re the Champion of Kirkwall.”

Hawke snorted. “Right. As if that gives me any kind of great wisdom. I killed the Arishok. That was all. I didn’t exactly do a bang up job of saving the city when it really needed to be saved.”

Adaerion smiled wryly. “Well… I think Cassandra is something of a fan anyway. Blame Varric for that.”

Hawke was about to reply when a commotion caught both has and the Inquisitor’s attention. A slender figure wrapped in a cloak and with an enormous greatsword strapped to his back came storming up the stairs to the upper courtyard with the gate guards in hot pursuit. 

“What on…” Adaerion began then he shot a glance at Hawke that made him stop and give the man a second, longer look.

Hawke was staring adoringly at the approaching… elf. As the figure got closer, Adaerion could see that it was indeed an elf and a very angry looking elf at that with strange white markings visible on his chin, throat and hands that were most emphatically _not_ vallaslin. From the stories Varric had regaled them with about the Champion and his adventures, Adaerion could take a pretty good guess as to who the elf was.

“ _Fenris_ ,” Hawke breathed.

Fenris stomped right over to where they were standing, the guards melting away at Adaerion’s gesture. He looked livid but Hawke was too busy drinking in his very presence to realise that. Fenris was wearing the new armour Hawke had bought him. The design was similar enough to his old armour to be comfortable but different enough to be… his. Not something Danarius had given him. He was swathed in a cloak against the cold of the Frostbacks and had even deigned to wear boots against the snow and ice. On his back was a pack and his sword and slinking along behind him, looking like he very much wanted to avoid drawing Fenris’ attention, was Hawke’s mabari, Barker.

It was entirely possible the mabari was the smartest one in the vicinity.

“You’re here,” Hawke breathed when Fenris was standing in front of him.

“Yes,” Fenris snapped, biting off his words angrily. “ _Now_. Instead of as I should have been from the very beginning.”

Hawke could, on occasion, be oblivious, either deliberately or accidentally, but even he could recognise the warning signals coming from Fenris. Unfortunately, recognising them didn’t always give him the ability to handle them with any sort of aplomb.

“I wanted to protect you, Fenris. I _needed_ you to be safe.”

“ _Safe_ ,” Fenris spat then he shoved Hawke’s shoulder hard, pushing the man back against the wall. Hawke’s eyes widened with surprise. “Since when have I ever been _safe_? Since when have I ever needed _your_ protection?”

A number of hurtful comments leapt to Hawke’s mind at that but he clamped down on the desire to spit them out at his lover. He’d known that Fenris would not be happy at being left behind, especially in the way he’d done it. This… Fenris’ anger… was entirely justified.

Before he could say anything, Fenris leaned in so that they were almost nose to nose. His fury was obvious this close but equally obvious was his pain and despair and Hawke suddenly wanted to go back and punch himself in the face and do thing differently. In his frustration and his stupid determination to try and fix this problem he considered his, he’d forgotten that Fenris had already lost so much in his life and by leaving in the dead of night with just a note to tell Fenris what was going on, he’d made his lover feel… abandoned.

“What makes you think you can make such decisions without speaking to _me_?” Fenris snarled. “That is what _Danarius_ used to do.”

Hawke sucked in a breath then closed his eyes and let the breath out slowly. Maker, he was a fool. He _knew_ Fenris’ issues inside and out. He even knew of some that he wasn’t entirely sure Fenris had quite figured out he possessed. The elf’s habit of not meeting his eyes – unless he was completely furious like he was now – was one of those. Though that was slightly beside the point right now. He knew of those issues and yet he’d gone and run roughshod over them anyway. Fenris might tolerate him making decisions for both of them when it came to what they might term their ‘profession’ but Hawke had always promised himself he would never make decisions for both of them regarding their personal life. Then he’d gone and done it anyway.

“Fenris,” he whispered. He slowly raised one hand and brushed his fingers along his lover’s cheek. It did not seem to make on iota of difference as the hard look in Fenris’ eyes did not soften in the slightest. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I… I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, you are,” Fenris said harshly. 

Hawke could see out of the corner of his eye that the Inquisitor was slowly edging away. He couldn’t blame the kid. He didn’t deserve to get caught in the overflow of their argument.

“I… I was afraid of losing you,” he whispered. “I had a suspicion this was going to get ugly and I couldn’t…” He let out a shuddering breath. “I couldn’t bear losing you, Fenris, and you… you take such risks when you think I’m in danger. I couldn’t… I needed…” He broke off and swallowed around the painful lump in his throat. “So I… I was stupid and selfish and I made that decision and I…” He hesitated then said hurriedly, “I can’t promise that I won’t do it again.”

He cupped Fenris’ cheek with one hand. The elf was entirely still, staring at him intensely but not yet saying or doing anything.

“You said in the Gallows that you couldn’t bear living without me,” he continued earnestly. “Well, that’s mutual, Fenris. You’re the one unremittingly good thing in my life and I can’t help but be selfish when it comes to you surviving.” He swallowed and dropped his gaze. “But I am sorry. I shouldn’t have just left like that. I should have spoken to you.” He raised his head again and gave a tiny rueful smile. “You know, like an adult.”

For a long, long moment, Fenris simply stared at him and Hawke felt his heart sink, wondering whether Fenris was going to forgive him. Then the elf closed his eyes and sagged a little. Hawke let out a relieved sigh and rested his forehead against his lover’s, his hand curling around the back of Fenris’ neck.

“You are a very stupid man,” Fenris said, his voice shaking. “And I hate you.”

Hawke gave a watery laugh at that so very _Fenris_ response. He doubted he was entirely forgiven just yet but he knew the entirety of Fenris’ ‘I hate you’ repertoire. That particular one meant ‘I hate you for making me scared and for making me doubt but I am here and you are here and I love you’.

“I love you too,” Hawke whispered as he gently pulled his lover closer and pressed a chaste kiss against his lips.

Fenris went still then he surged against Hawke, pushing him back against the wall and all but devouring his mouth. Hawke groaned into the kiss then they moved just the wrong way as he pulled Fenris tighter against him and a pained cry escaped him before he could stop it.

Fenris pulled back in an instant, his sharp gaze running over Hawke. “Where are you hurt?” he demanded.

Hawke rested one hand over the wound on his side and smiled weakly. “Here. It’s not serious. Just… painful.”

Fenris’ hand brushed over his gently at his side and then he cupped Hawke’s cheek. “Is that the truth?”

“Yes, I promise,” Hawke said, leaning into the touch. “You can ask the healers if you like.”

He raised an eyebrow as Fenris’ eyes bored into him then he chuckled. “So suspicious. I bet you will, won’t you?”

His lover snorted. “It would not be the first time you have brushed off something serious as being minor.”

Barker, who had wisely been laying low while the argument progressed, now shoved his head between the two of them. His tongue was hanging out one side of his mouth comically and he seemed both relieved and pleased that the storm had passed.

Hawke’s scratched his mabari between the ears and Fenris snorted. 

“He is as bad as you with his inappropriate affection and slobbering.”

Hawke grinned and Barker lived up to his name, barking happily then shoving his nose into Fenris’ hand. Contrary to his complaint, Fenris immediately scratched gently behind the dog’s ears, a small smile quirking his lips.

“Well, someone had to do it and since I wasn’t there, old Barks had to stand in for me.”

Fenris arched an eyebrow. “I think I will leave that well enough alone now.”

Hawke snorted and pulled the elf into a loose embrace. “Yeah, I think that might be a good idea.” He pressed a kiss onto his lover’s forehead. “Hey, Fenris. Once I’m all healed up, I’m planning on going to Weisshaupt to yell at the Wardens there. Wanna come with me?”

Fenris raised an eyebrow at him. “I believe I could be convinced. _After_ you have made amends for leaving me.”

Hawke’s grin turned decidedly lascivious. “I should get on with that. Right away.”

“Yes, you should,” Fenris said dryly.

Hawke laughed and pushed himself gingerly off the wall. He kept one arm around Fenris’ shoulders as they headed towards the stairs leading into the building. “I have a room here. It’s a good room. Nice view. Excellent bed. You’ll _really_ like the bed. It’s also got nice thick walls. No one will hear us.”

Fenris snorted and let himself be guided inside. There would be yelling in the future. He hadn’t entirely gotten that urge out of his system but for now, he was willing to let Hawke start to make things right between them.


	11. It's Your Move - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here’s my first serious (well, maybe not serious, let’s try a tiny bit angsty then very fluffy) foray into the world of cullrian. This is set in the same playthrough as my mage Kutide Adaar, who, in my headcanon, was about ready to just grab the two of them by the backs of their heads and sort of smoosh their faces together.

Dorian leaned back in his chair and let his gaze run idly over Commander Cullen. The leader of the Inquisition’s armies was oblivious to his scrutiny as he pondered his next move in their chess game and that gave Dorian ample opportunity to simply look at what he had decided was the most frustrating man he’d ever had the good fortune to meet. He really must thank the Inquisitor for accepting him into the Inquisition and giving him the opportunity to become friends with the Commander… and then perhaps he would gently punch Adaar because Cullen was driving him mad.

Cullen was the most artlessly attractive man Dorian had ever met. He made no effort whatsoever at improving his appearance, bar the use of something to tame his hair. Dorian had seen the Commander first thing in the morning during their trip to Skyhold and the riot of curls Cullen had been sporting before he disappeared back into his tent and tamed them had been startling and utterly adorable. But apart from his hair, he made no other efforts. He regularly sported a disturbingly attractive level of scruff on his face and by no rights should he look as good as he did. It was entirely unfair.

And the armour was… well, it suited him. Some men looked like hulking brutes in armour or they looked like it was ill-fitting even when it had been made to measure. Cullen simply looked _right_ in armour. He wore it like a second skin. Like it was entirely comfortable and a part of him. He somehow made that ridiculous fur collar look good and, really, that wretched thing should not look good on anyone. He’d heard Cullen called the Lion of the Inquisition and even that ridiculous moniker suited him. 

Dorian flirted with him, of course. How could he not? You could not put the most ridiculously attractive man he’d ever met in front of him and expect him not to flirt. He’d expected it to go badly but instead of getting angry or worse, Cullen had blushed and stammered and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and just generally been incredibly adorable. And sometimes when he flirted with Cullen – the _best_ times – that ridiculously adorable man would blush and duck his head and smile shyly. Dorian had a treasure trove of memories of the times when he got that reaction from Cullen and if he used them to allow a stupid, stupid hope to kindle in his heart that was entirely his own business. And if he also sometimes used them as fodder to jerk off, well, that was also entirely his own business.

He knew about the lyrium withdrawal of course, though he wouldn’t admit that it had taken him a stupidly long time to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. He’d been distracted by Cullen himself. But he _had_ put the pieces together. The little reactions he saw, most especially when they were playing chess. The signs of hidden pain, the far too regular headaches that Cullen simply endured, the fact that Cullen didn’t smell of lyrium like the other Templars that had joined the Inquisition. Once you put the pieces together, the picture was easy to grasp and a few discreet questions had given him the answers as to what usually happened when a Southern Templar went without lyrium. 

So not only was Cullen stupidly handsome, he was also ridiculously brave. And when you added kind, noble and thoughtful to that description, Dorian felt that it was utterly, utterly unfair that Cullen seemed to be completely oblivious to Dorian’s attraction. Maker knows no one else in Skyhold was if the ribald comments he’d received from Adaar, the Iron Bull, Sera and even Varric were anything to go by. And if those four knew then it was likely that _everyone_ knew. They were not the most discreet people in the place.

They’d also all suggested he actually make a move and he knew that it wasn’t a _bad_ idea in theory. However the fact that it could also be an _appalling_ idea kept him from doing so. Making a move _might_ result in Cullen reciprocating but it also might result in something horrible. Dorian would much rather have Cullen’s friendship than his hatred or contempt nor was he willing to risk that friendship for mere sex. When it came to Cullen he wanted it all and since that was a patently ridiculous notion, he was willing to settle for friendship.

“Dorian?”

He blinked his way out of his thoughts to find Cullen looking at him with quiet amusement and just a hint of concern.

“It’s your move.”

Dorian looked down at the board and wished he could take that statement in an entirely different way. _Act_ on it in an entirely different way. But, as one of his nannies had always put it, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

“Are you alright, Dorian?”

He looked up from his contemplation of the board and smiled brightly. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

“You looked like you were miles away.”

“Some place warmer to be sure,” Dorian replied.

Cullen chuckled and gestured towards the mage’s bare shoulder. “Maybe if you wore more clothes you wouldn’t be as cold.”

“But then people would be denied the magnificence of my physique and we can’t have that,” Dorian said airily. He smirked. “Not all of us like to hide under fur and metal. Maybe you should try being a little more revealing yourself. I’m sure half of Skyhold would like to see what the Commander has under his armour.”

Cullen blushed on cue and Dorian gave a little internal cheer as the other man ducked his head with one of those shy smiles.

“I… uh, I rather doubt that.”

“Oh, I must disagree, Commander.” Dorian’s smirk widened. “The speculation is rife.”

Cullen’s blush faded a little to be replaced by mild exasperation. “Maker’s breath. Don’t people have anything better to do with their time?”

Dorian laughed. “Even if they did, they’d still talk and speculate. Places like this run on gossip.”

“And I’m sure you do nothing to encourage that,” Cullen said with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh, come now, you know people don’t gossip with the _evil Tevinter mage_.”

Cullen frowned. “You’re not… You shouldn’t run yourself down like that. You’ve done more for the Inquisition than most of _them_.” 

Dorian very firmly restrained the urge to climb into Cullen’s lap and kiss him senseless. Cullen’s knight in shining armour tendencies were unbelievably attractive and made it even harder to resist him. Instead he turned his attention to the chessboard.

“Of course I have but they don’t see that and likely never will,” he said in a convincing imitation of an uncaring tone. He suspected Cullen would see through it so he moved one of his chess pieces. “Your move, Commander.”

Cullen gave him a long intense look but the expression on his face was unreadable. It made Dorian feel vaguely nervous and he mentally replayed his words and wondered what about them had set this off.

“Yes… yes, so it is,” Cullen murmured. He looked down at the chess board and licked his lips. He seemed to be steeling himself and Dorian started feeling more and more confused about precisely what was going on here.

He became even more confused when Cullen got to his feet and walked around the table with a determined expression on his face. However when Cullen paused beside his chair and swallowed nervously, a stupid kind of hope bloomed abruptly in Dorian’s chest. A hope that exploded into disbelief and joy when Cullen leaned down and pressed a soft chaste kiss to his lips.

“I… really?” he said when the kiss ended. He immediately wanted to kick himself for asking such a stupid question.

But Cullen only chuckled and cupped his cheek with one calloused hand, his thumb brushing softly over his cheekbone. “Yes, really.”

Dorian lurched gracelessly to his feet and was immediately caught and held in Cullen’s warm embrace. As it was where he’d wanted to be, he voiced no complaints and instead drew Cullen into a far more passionate kiss.

They were both breathing heavily when this kiss ended and Cullen rested his forehead against Dorian’s in an affectionate move that made his heart melt a little. It was also the action that convinced him that this was real and that he hadn’t fallen asleep and was being preyed upon by a desire demon. Because that had been a worry. He’d spent so long just simply _wanting_ without ever thinking he could actually _have_ what he wanted that this seemed almost unreal.

“You are a ridiculously attractive man and why haven’t we been doing this before?”

Cullen chuckled. “Because apparently I needed the Inquisitor to open my eyes to the fact that you were pining for me.”

“I was not _pining_ ,” Dorian said indignantly then he sighed. “Well, maybe I was pining a _little_.”

“It was mutual pining,” Cullen offered with a smile. “The Inquisitor got tired of it and decided I was the one more likely to make a move once I knew.”

“I… well…” Dorian felt rather nonplussed by the whole thing and yet… “I suppose I ought to thank her.”

Cullen tightened his embrace and leaned down. “Maybe later,” he breathed, his lips almost touching Dorian’s. “We have other things to discuss first.”

“I like your discussions,” Dorian said with a smirk before turning his attention to kissing this ridiculously attractive man who was apparently entirely attainable.


	12. Too Much - Male Warrior Trevelyan/Cullen Rutherford

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, okay. I couldn’t leave this pairing alone and I have a sneaky little headcanon that Vivienne is a very secret romantic, given her personal quest with the snowy wyvern heart, and she can’t resist a melodramatic Inquisitor and refuses to believe she’s misread Cullen. This is a continuation of Chapter 8 - Attached.

The last person Cullen expected to see coming towards him as he supervised the new recruits’ training was Vivienne. Madame de Fer rarely deigned to traipse across the grounds of Skyhold to where the soldiers trained and Cullen was actually more than happy about that. It wasn’t that he _disliked_ Vivienne but she had some very _traditional_ views about Templars that he didn’t entirely agree with and frankly no longer felt qualified to comment on. However it soon became obvious that she was indeed intending to speak to him so he metaphorically squared his shoulders and hoped he could be diplomatic.

“First Enchanter,” he said with a nod when she came and stood beside him.

“Commander,” she said in reply. 

She was looking at him as though he was a very interesting specimen and it was putting Cullen’s hackles up.

“Can I help you?” he said when the scrutiny got too much for him. He managed to keep any irritation out of his voice but it was a close run thing.

“I had the Inquisitor come and visit me yesterday,” Vivienne said as though she was making an observation about the weather. “The poor dear was in despair.”

For a moment, Cullen had no idea what she was talking about and then he froze. Yesterday. When he’d finally realised that the Inquisitor had been flirting with him with a certain amount of intent. He’d thought he’d been kind in his rejection. He’d thought the Inquisitor had understood.

“I… uh…” One hand went almost automatically to the back of his neck. He had no idea what to say.

“I was at quite a loss,” Vivienne continued, still in that idle tone. “I was under the impression that you were rather enamoured with him.”

Cullen’s breath caught for a moment and he choked slightly. “I… uh… _no_.” He winced at the rather desperate way he’d said that. It didn’t sound like conviction, it sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was Vivienne.

“Perhaps you should stop staring at his posterior if you want that denial to be convincing,” Vivienne said with some amusement.

“I do not…” he began hotly before he saw Vivienne’s sly little smirk and cut off his words. 

He turned his glare on the recruits who were tentatively looking in their direction.

“You’ve got a shield in your hand. Block with it! And you there, get that elbow up,” he bellowed, trying to shrug off the unease Vivienne’s words had engendered within him.

Because she was right and he didn’t want to admit it. He was enamoured with the Inquisitor, as she put it. Ever since Maxwell Trevelyan had walked into the War Room in Haven after temporarily closing the Breach, he’d been fascinated by the man. The fascination had quickly turned to something a little more and it was… too much. 

Too much in combination with all his duties and responsibilities, things that had only increased after their arrival at Skyhold. Too much in combination with the relentless withdrawal symptoms that rarely left him alone. He _wanted_ but it was just… too much.

“I am very busy, Madame Vivienne,” he said, trying to aim for polite dismissal and keep his irritation and frustration out of his voice. He didn’t really succeed but Vivienne ignored both the tone and the intent.

“Indeed you are, Commander, and we all know that all work and no play turns Commanders into very dull boys.” She looked amused and Cullen’s hackles went up again. “I am sure the Inquisitor would be more than happy to help you play.”

Cullen made a low growling sound as he scowled. “Madame Vivienne,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “Thank you for your concern but the situation with Ma… with the Inquisitor must remain as it is.”

Vivienne didn’t look even slightly impressed at the growl but his reply had her looking concerned and she placed a hand on his arm. “I do believe I will require a reason as to why before I can be persuaded to leave you be, Commander.”

“It’s none of your business,” he growled, leaving all politeness behind.

“I’m afraid it is when I end up with the Inquisitor bemoaning his unhappiness on my chaise.” She arched a delicate eyebrow at him. “And when it becomes entirely plain to me that you do indeed return his affections but have still denied him.”

Cullen gestured for one of his Lieutenants to take over supervision of the training and then he stalked towards the stairs leading up to the battlements and his office. He knew Vivienne would follow and so when he reached his office door, he simply held it open for her. He watched her sail into the room then followed and closed the door behind him.

“I can’t,” he said shortly. “It is… he is… I have…” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “It’s too much.”

Vivienne looked at him critically then her expression softened for just a moment. “My dear Cullen, I don’t believe anyone has ever said that you must carry your burden alone. Maxwell would be more than happy to help.” She paused. “And he could do with someone to help him carry his burden. It is as onerous as your own.”

Cullen turned away and walked over to the window. The view was spectacular but he didn’t see it. “He has enough to do as it is.”

“And yet he is more than willing.”

“He can’t help with this.”

“How do you know if you don’t let him try?” Vivienne paused for a moment. “Happiness is a rare and precious gift, Commander. It doesn’t come along often. You would be a fool to turn it away when it is offered to you.”

Cullen bowed his head but didn’t answer. Vivienne sighed and turned towards the door. She paused with one hand on the handle. “I would like you to think on this, Commander. Maxwell is half in love with you already but if you continue to reject him, he will eventually turn to another. If not for love, then at least for companionship and relief. The Iron Bull has already made an offer and I see the way Dorian looks at him. There are others as well. You say that his affections are too much, that he cannot help and that may well be so. But ask yourself this. Can you bear to see him in the arms of another man?”

With that she opened the door and walked out. Cullen watched the door swing closed behind her and he leaned heavily against the wall against the window. Vivienne’s words were resonating through his mind. He… hadn’t thought about that inevitability. Maxwell’s job was difficult one and it would make sense that he would eventually want someone to lean on and if it wasn’t Cullen…

He closed his eyes and almost immediately a picture rose in his mind of Maxwell in a passionate embrace with the Iron Bull. He shook his head to dismiss it and it was replaced with one of Dorian wooing Maxwell and the Inquisitor laughing and kissing the other man. He groaned and opened his eyes, his hands clenched into fists as jealousy and despair warred within him. Damn Vivienne for putting the thought of Maxwell with someone else in his mind. 

He turned towards his desk and tried to shove her words away by burying himself in work. It didn’t really work. Every time he tried to concentrate on a report, his mind drifted away to Maxwell and who he might turn to after Cullen’s rejection. And every time his mind drifted in that direction, the jealousy and despair grew and made his chest hurt and his head ache.

When dinner rolled around, he didn’t even attempt to join the others and instead continued to try and bury himself in work. He suspected someone, most likely Cassandra, would see that a plate was sent over so when the knock came at his door, he called out for whoever it was to enter without much thought.

“You, ah… didn’t come to dinner so I… thought I’d…”

Cullen’s head whipped up to find Maxwell standing awkwardly in the doorway, holding a tray that held two plates as well as a couple of goblets and a bottle of wine.

“M… Inquisitor,” Cullen said, rising to his feet. He stared at the other man for a moment then quickly cleared some of the paperwork off his desk. “I… uh… come in.”

Maxwell shuffled in and they worked in silence to unload the tray and place everything on the desk. Cullen looked around and hastily removed the books that were piled on the spare chair and gestured for Maxwell to sit down before returning to his own seat.

“I… uh… thank you for this,” he said, gesturing towards the plate before he began eating. “I was, uh, busy and lost track of time.”

“Cassandra was getting all frowny when she realised you weren’t there so I… uh, said I’d bring something over to you,” Maxwell replied. “She’s kind of scary when she gets all frowny.”

He glanced up briefly only once through all of that and he looked so hesitant that Cullen wanted to smack himself.

“I… yes, she is,” he said with an awkward chuckle.

They ate in an uncomfortable silence for a while and Cullen felt his stomach roil. Was this how it was going to be? Awkward meetings and strained silence while he watched Maxwell pull further and further away and turn to someone else? He’d thought he could handle this but… he hadn’t really thought it through all the way, had he? And he certainly hadn’t considered Maxwell’s side of things either.

It dawned on him that he really had only two options. He could let things continue how they were. It would be easier, less… complicated. He would have his work and his duty and Maxwell… would have someone else and he would have to live with the pain of watching that. Or he could stop being such a damned fool and take what had been offered to him. And offer something back. And maybe it would be more complicated and maybe it would be difficult and maybe it would be painful but there would be happiness as well and joy and pleasure and surely he deserved that? Surely they both did?

They’d both finished their meals while he’d been mulling over all of that and he was only drawn out of his thoughts by the sound of Maxwell’s chair scraping over the floor. He looked up in surprise and saw Maxwell standing next to the desk, looking awkward and a little lost.

“I, uh, I should go,” Maxwell said, sounding despondent. “I’m sorry for disturbing you. I just wanted…” He sighed. “Never mind.”

Cullen watched Maxwell walk towards the door while his mind shouted at him to not let the other man walk out. For a moment, he sat frozen in his chair and then he leapt to his feet. He ignored the clatter of the chair falling to the floor and crossed the gap between he and Maxwell in a few long strides.

“Maxwell,” he said hoarsely, reaching out to grab the Inquisitor’s arm.

Maxwell turned back with a questioning look that turned to surprise and hope at whatever he saw on Cullen’s face. Cullen didn’t give him a chance to say anything. He pushed Maxwell back against the door and all but plastered himself against the younger man as he captured his lips in a searing kiss.

He felt Maxwell flail a bit then his hands were grabbing at Cullen’s sides then moving to grab at the fur around his neck before one slid into his hair. Someone gave a low whimpering moan and Cullen couldn’t tell if it was him or Maxwell and he didn’t care. This… this was what he wanted and he’d been a damn fool to turn it down.

They were both breathless when they finally broke apart and when he opened his eyes, Cullen found that Maxwell was grinning at him like a loon, his eyes alight with happiness and lust. He smiled in return then succumbed to a rather bashful chuckle.

“You changed your mind,” Maxwell said with a sort of happy wonder as they relaxed in each other’s arms.

Cullen let his forehead rest against the other man’s. “Yes… yes, I did. Vivienne came to speak to me today.”

Maxwell blushed and groaned. “She wasn’t supposed to do that.”

“Madame de Fer is a force in her own right,” Cullen said with a chuckle. “She… well, what she had to say hit home.”

Maxwell was silent for a moment then he kissed the end of Cullen’s nose. “I won’t ask what she said though I am glad she said it. I’ll have to remember to thank her.” He smiled ruefully. “Especially as I was _particularly_ melodramatic with her yesterday.”

Cullen winced. “I… I’m sorry. I… thought it would be for the best. You have so much to deal with already and…” He sighed. “You already know what I… have to deal with.”

Maxwell caressed his cheek, running his fingers over the stubble that had always captivated him. “You don’t have to deal with that alone. I _want_ to help and…” He smiled a little. “I want to know I have someone I can complain about things with.”

Cullen chuckled. “You do that anyway.”

“But now you’ll wrap your arms around me and kiss me and it’ll make it so much better.” He pressed a brief kiss to Cullen’s lips. “And I can do the same when the days are bad for you.”

“That… doesn’t sound so bad,” Cullen admitted. “It sounds… good.”

“I should hope so.” Maxwell tightened his embrace and pulled Cullen close as he leaned back against the wall again. “I also know something that sounds even better.” He closed the gap between them until his lips were brushing against Cullen’s. “But that would involve climbing that ladder of yours.”

Cullen made a small sound of want and crushed his lips against Maxwell’s. “ _Yes_.”

Maxwell chuckled and shoved him back. He sauntered over to the ladder and gave Cullen something that he suspected was meant to be a seductive look. It came out as a ridiculous leer and he laughed. Maxwell grinned at him in return.

“I look like an idiot, don’t I? I never did get the hang of how to lure men to my bed with my looks alone.”

Cullen joined him and gave him a kiss. He felt light and happy and he didn’t know how long it was going to last or when the next disaster was going to occur that would drag them back down into the mire of work and duty but he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away now. Not now that he’d had a taste of it. It was probably selfish of him but Maxwell was his now and he’d be damned if he’d give the man up.

“Yes, it was a bit ridiculous.”

Maxwell laughed and tapped Cullen’s armour. “Take that off and join me.”

He scrambled up the ladder and Cullen could hear him moving around upstairs. He looked up for a moment then turned his attention to removing his armour. He didn’t know what the morning was going to bring but for once, he was going to embrace the here and now.


	13. Unsettled - Pre-Female Warrior Trevelyan/Cullen Rutherford

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Evelyn Trevelan is a 2H warrior who loves her great big sword to little pieces. (Honestly, if you haven’t played a 2H warrior, you’re missing all the fun. Just make sure you get upgraded Grappling Chain and upgraded Mighty Blow. It becomes a game of ‘Come. Here. And let me kick you in the face then smash you into the ground.’ It’s awesome.) Anyway, Evelyn is a massive dork who just loves kicking people in the face and hitting them with her sword and Cullen makes her go all weak at the knees. Also she recruited the Templars and didn’t think it was any fun to watch Envy!Leliana slit fake!Cullen’s throat. No sir, indeed. Also, Solas has the patience of a saint.

Evelyn Trevelyan grumbled under her breath as she crawled out of the tent she was sharing with Cassandra. She kept it entirely under her breath as it was the middle of the night and she didn’t want to wake the other woman. Just because she couldn’t get to sleep didn’t mean everyone else had to be awake.

She nodded to the guard on duty and wandered over to the small lake formed by the waterfall from Lake Luthian. The waterfall made the camp a little noisy but she didn’t mind. The noise of the water was soothing in its own way. Unfortunately it wasn’t soothing enough to stop the unsettling dreams she’d been having since Therinfal Redoubt. 

A hint of movement at the other side of the small expanse of water caught her eye and she tensed until her eyes adjusted enough to recognise who it was. She hesitated for a moment then picked her way over to where Solas was sitting.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked quietly.

The apostate elf looked up and smiled slightly. “Not at all. Are you having trouble sleeping?”

Evelyn grumbled again as she sat down and looked over to the farmland below. The fires had mostly died down overnight. Even rebel mages and templars needed to sleep after all. But there was a dim glow from the ruined houses that almost cosy from this distance.

“I keep having strange dreams,” she admitted. “Well… not strange so much as… weird.”

Solas chuckled. “How so?”

Evelyn picked at the leather of her boots. “I never really told you or anyone really what happened in… well, in my head. With the Envy demon.”

“You told us it was trying to know you.” Solas looked faintly concerned. “Is there more?”

“Well… yes and no,” Evelyn replied with a sigh. “That _was_ what it was doing but it’s more _how_ it was doing it that’s got me all…” She waved a hand. “Out of sorts.”

“If you wish to tell me, I am willing to listen,” Solas offered.

Evelyn was silent for a moment. “It kept showing me what it would do with the Inquisition if it became me. Trying to see how I would react, I guess. It wasn’t good.”

“It was a demon,” Solas said. “That does rather go without saying.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Evelyn said with a small smile then she sobered again. “Ugh. I hate it when demons get into your head. They… _pick_ at everything.”

Solas eyed her curiously for a moment. “There is something in particular that it… picked at that has you fretting.”

“That obvious, is it?” Evelyn said dryly.

“You have been… unsettled since we returned from Therinfal Redoubt.”

“I just hate things I can’t solve by hitting them with my sword.” She looked amused. “I suppose I _could_ try with this but considering it’s my head we’re talking about that might not go too well.”

Solas chuckled. “No, I don’t think it would.”

“Ugh,” Evelyn said with a roll of her eyes. “It just… picked at something I’d rather it had left alone because it makes me feel stupid.”

“How so?”

She gave him a speculative look. “You’re not going to tell anyone else about this, right?”

“You have my word,” Solas replied, looking amused.

“One of the first things it did was have Leliana cut Cullen’s throat,” she blurted out. “Just… right there. Done. Like that. He didn’t even fight. Just stared at me with those really gorgeous brown eyes of his as he bled out and collapsed.”

Solas arched an eyebrow. “You… have feelings for the Commander?”

“ _Ugh_!” Evelyn ran a hand through her hair and gripped it in mock despair. “I feel like a teenager around him. All butterflies in my stomach and stupid impertinent questions.” She grumbled. “That he _answered_. He wasn’t supposed to _answer_ them. He was supposed to tell me to bugger off and I’d have gotten over it. Instead he answered them and got all bashful and stammery and adorable and now I just want to climb the man like a _tree_.”

“I’m not sure stammery is actually a word,” Solas said blandly.

“You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?” Evelyn said accusingly though there was a shimmer of laughter around the edges of her words. “You’re sitting there looking all calm and peaceful and inside you’re laughing your butt off at me.”

“I would never.”

“Yes, you would. You’d just do it all subtly and quietly so no one can see you laughing at the silly humans.”

Solas chuckled. “Is there something wrong with liking Commander Cullen? He seems to be a fine man.”

“He _is_ and that just makes it worse,” Evelyn said. “He’s tall and handsome and noble and kind and damn good at his job and… and he turned on me, you know? Well, Envy me, not _me_ me. He was in a cell and he sounded so bitter and angry.”

“That upset you?”

“No! I’m glad he did. He _should_. _Everyone_ should have turned on me if something like that happened. Why would anyone think I’d do something like that? Why wouldn’t anyone suspect that something was deeply wrong and stop me before I turned the Inquisition into a butcher’s pit?”

“And I suspect we have hit the cause of your… unsettled mind,” Solas observed. “You worry that you will tread down an… inappropriate path and that no one will try to stop you until it’s too late because you are the Herald of Andraste.”

“I… yeah, maybe.” Evelyn sighed. “I never wanted to be the Herald of Andraste in the first place. I’m… not really suited to the role. I’m brash. I like hitting things with a sword more than I like talking about them. Politics gives me hives and _don’t_ get me started on the Game and all the rubbish that comes with Society and nobility. I guess I just worry that I’m going to… to take shortcuts and everyone’s just going to prance along with me and let me do whatever I want without stopping me if I’m going to do something stupid.”

“You are aware that demons like to prey upon your doubts and amplify them? Turn them into the worst case scenario and let you stew on it?”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow at him. “So you’re saying people wouldn’t let me turn the Inquisition into a butcher’s pit?”

Solas raised an eyebrow at her in return. “Do you really believe that Commander Cullen would stand by and let you do that? That Sister Leliana would? That Cassandra would?” He paused. “That _I_ would? Do you think that we would not try and stop you far earlier than the Envy demon postulated?”

“You would?” Evelyn was aware that she sounded almost child-like and though she hated it, she wanted the reassurance even more.

“I would,” Solas said firmly. “So too would the others. Of that, I am certain.”

“I… good… thank you,” Evelyn said. It was probably a stupid thing to worry about but nevertheless Solas’ promise set her mind at ease. There were people who would stop her in the unlikely event she lost her mind and became a tyrant.

“You are, of course, assuming you would do this,” Solas continued. “Which you would not.”

“You think?” Evelyn asked.

“You are brash, often reckless and occasionally blunt but you are not cruel.” Solas levelled a smirk at her. “I do not believe Commander Cullen would stammer over his words to a person who was cruel.”

Evelyn blushed and glared at him. “I’d smack you for that except I think you’d get me back in far more devious ways.”

Solas merely chuckled at that before sobering. “Do not allow the demon to command your thoughts now that it is dead. Your worries are unwarranted.”

Evelyn stared out over the darkened farmlands. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” She smiled wryly. “Still doesn’t solve my problems with Cullen.”

“That is not something I can help you with,” Solas replied.

“No one can,” she said with a sigh. “I’m just going to have to moon over him from afar.”

“Or you could talk to him,” Solas said. There was air about him that suggested he was trying very hard not to laugh.

“Perish the thought,” Evelyn said with an airy wave of one hand. “That would be far too easy.”

Solas sighed. “Perhaps it is time for you to go to bed.”

Evelyn grinned at him. “You sound like my father.”

“He sounds like a wise man.”

Evelyn laughed and got to her feet. “Yeah, he is.” She turned to go then looked back at the elven mage. “And thank you, Solas.”

“You are most welcome, Herald.”


	14. Make A Move - Pre-Female Warrior Trevelyan/Cullen Rutherford

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so yeah, Evelyn ships Cassandra and Varric. She is a doofus. By the way, they’re in Crestwood in the camp near the farms and have stopped for the night after meeting Stroud and before dealing with a few things in Crestwood. Then they’ll head back to Skyhold and on to the Western Approach. Also just a note – No, Dorian isn’t pining after Cullen in this one. There is no unrequited love or star-crossed lovers. He just has an eye for a good-looking man and teasing Evelyn is hilarious for him and his favourite pastime.

“The way you baby that sword is mildly disturbing.”

Evelyn looked up from where she was polishing and sharpening her sword in what really was a loving manner and grinned at the Tevinter mage they’d recruited in the aftermath of Haven’s destruction. Dorian was rapidly becoming her new favourite with his dry devastating wit. Their mutual admiration of a certain Commander didn’t hurt either.

“It’s a good sword,” she said innocently. “It deserves all the love and attention it can get.”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise and shot them a look that said louder than words that she was wondering why she got stuck babysitting them all the time.

Evelyn swallowed a smirk and turned that innocent look on the dwarf in their company. “Varric understands. Don’t you, Varric?”

“Oh no,” Varric said dryly. “You’re not dragging me into your insanity, even if I do agree with you.” He got to his feet and slung Bianca over his shoulder. “I’m going to get more firewood. Want to come, Cassandra, and leave the children to their playing?”

The Seeker looked between the dwarf and Evelyn and Dorian’s deceptively innocent expressions and quickly got to her feet. “Yes. Anything is better than staying here.”

“I’m wounded, Cassandra, really I am,” Dorian said, affecting a moue of disappointment.

Evelyn giggled at his expression and watched as Varric and Cassandra wandered down from the camp towards the nearby farms. They were already beginning to bicker.

“You know… I’m really tempted to lock those two in a room until they get a clue,” she said dryly.

Dorian looked surprised and he turned to look in the direction they’d gone. “Cassandra and Varric? Really?”

Evelyn snorted. “You haven’t been around long enough to see what they’re like. Talk about bickering like an old married couple. Without the married or the couple bit.”

Dorian snickered. “This I have to see.” He shot Evelyn a wicked look. “Wouldn’t it be better to fix your own love life first before starting on theirs?”

Evelyn groaned and collapsed to the side before rather melodramatically rolling onto her back, clutching her enormous sword to her chest. “Noooo. We’re not talking about that. Nope.”

“But it’s so entertaining,” Dorian replied with a laugh at her antics.

“There’s nothing to talk about anyway,” Evelyn said with a huff. That wasn’t entirely true but the matter of Cullen’s lyrium withdrawal wasn’t something she intended to discuss with Dorian until and unless Cullen said it was okay.

“You mean, all those calf eyes you two make at each other and nothing’s happened?” Dorian’s expression turned rather slyly amused. “Now, Evie, if you don’t make a move, I’m just going to have to.”

Evelyn rolled on her side and fixed him with her best stink eye. “You keep your hands off my Commander.”

“ _Your_ Commander?” Dorian said with an air of artful innocence. “It seems to me he’s still _anyone’s_ Commander.”

“Dorian.” Evelyn pointed a finger at the Tevinter mage. “Do not force me to give you a close personal introduction to Rosie here.”

Dorian blinked, his train of thought momentarily derailed. “Rosie? You named your sword Rosie?”

“Well… yes,” Evelyn replied. “She reminded me of a girl I knew back home.”

“She reminded…” Dorian trailed off and then shook his head. “You know what? I think I really don’t want to know.”

“Rosie was tall, skinny and very, very stiff,” Evelyn said with a grin. She waved a hand at her sword. “So it fits.”

Dorian raised a finger and opened his mouth to speak then closed it again. “You know,” he said finally. “That actually works.”

“Don’t think Rosie would be too pleased,” Evelyn said with a shrug.

“By the way, I know you’re trying to distract me,” Dorian said. He smirked a little. “So why haven’t you jumped our good Commander. He looks like he could do with a good jumping.”

Evelyn sat up and rested her sword across her knees. “Because I… don’t actually know how he feels about me and I don’t want to ruin a good friendship because I’m mooning over him.”

Dorian stared at her with surprise before chuckling and shaking his head. “My dear Evelyn, the man is besotted with you. How can you not see that? He stares longingly at you whenever he can, like a large sad lovelorn puppy.” He paused and laughed. “It makes me want to pat him on the head and give him a treat to cheer him up.”

Evelyn aimed a swipe at the mage. “Dorian! He is _not_ a dog.”

“He’s Fereldan,” Dorian said dryly. “It’s the next best thing.”

“ _Dorian_ ,” Evelyn said with amused disapproval.

“Oh, very well,” Dorian replied with a smile. “But really, Evie, you need to do something about that sad puppy of a man. Preferably in a bed. Without any clothes.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Evelyn said, scrubbing her face with both hands.

“I don’t think Cassandra’s approach would work.” There was laughter rippling through Dorian’s voice.

Evelyn grabbed some grass and threw it at him. “Shush, you.” She sighed heavily. “Alright, alright! I’ll do something but I want to get things sorted with Stroud and Hawke in the Western Approach first.”

“But after we get back from there?” Dorian said, raising both eyebrows. “I’m going to hold you to that, Evie.”

“I promise,” Evelyn said, holding up both hands. “Why are you so invested in this anyway?”

Dorian’s lips twitched before he grinned broadly. “Because I have three sovereigns riding on the fact you and Cullen will get your acts together before the end of the month.”

Evelyn gaped with amusement and indignation. “You’re all _betting_ on this?”

“Of course! What else are we supposed to do in the fortress of doom in the mountains?” He gave her an outrageous wheedling look. “You surely want your friend Dorian to win, don’t you?”

“You’re cheating,” Evelyn said flatly though there was laughter dancing in her eyes.

“So is everyone else,” Dorian replied. “I’m just doing it better.”

Evelyn laughed helplessly. “You’re all horrible and I hate you.”

Dorian waved a hand. “Yes, yes, but you’ll do something before the end of the month, yes?”

Evelyn narrowed her eyes at him. “Only if you help me with Cassandra and Varric.”

“That’s blackmail.” Dorian pretended to look shocked. “Arrant, outright blackmail.” He paused. “I like it.”

“So you’ll help?”

He shrugged. “Why not? I haven’t given Cassandra a reason to kill me recently. Why not start now?”

“That’s the spirit,” Evelyn said as Cassandra and Varric came trudging up the hill and back into camp, still bickering.


	15. She's Right There - Pre-Female Warrior Trevelyan/Cullen, Pre-Varric Tethras/Cassandra Pentaghast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is based on a bit of banter that occurs between Dorian, Varric and Cassandra that made me laugh and I immediately realised it had to be an Evelyn fic. This is kind of set in the same 'verse as my Chauncey the Bear fics and is set after Cullen and Evelyn have kissed.

“So, Varric, are you and Cassandra…”

Evelyn was jolted out of her very pleasant daydreams about a certain Commander by Dorian’s seemingly idle question. She bit her lip in an effort to control the smile and snigger that were threatening. After keeping up her side of the bargain with Dorian to ‘do something’ about Cullen by the end of the month, she’d been rather looking forward to seeing what he did to keep up his end of the bargain.

“What?” Varric almost yelped. “No! Why would you even ask that?”

“Truly? Bizarre.”

She wished she could turn around and see what kind of expression accompanied Dorian’s artfully innocent reply. She was betting it was priceless. 

“I’m right here,” Cassandra said with irritation and Evelyn had to swallow the laugh that threatened to burst out of her. This couldn’t be going better if she’d tried!

“See?” She glanced around now, just in time to see Dorian gesture towards Cassandra as he gave Varric a bright, cheery look. “She’s right there. What are you waiting for?”

Varric’s roll of the eyes was worth the incipient crick in her neck. “Just because two people dislike each other doesn’t mean they’re about to kiss, Sparkler.”

“Not according to your books,” Dorian replied with a sly smile.

“Don’t mistake me for that hack who wrote _Hard in Hightown II_. I can spell,” Varric replied rather acerbically and Evelyn had to contend that it was a very good attempt at deflecting the conversation.

The demons that suddenly roared into life not far ahead of them were an even better deflection and the conversation ceased as they readied their weapons and waded into the fray. Evelyn didn’t have a chance to follow up on Dorian’s lead until that evening as she and Varric were collecting firewood.

“Do you really dislike each other?” she asked, as she leaned down to pick up a few sticks.

“That was apropos of nothing,” Varric said with amusement. “Who are you talking about?”

“You and Cassandra.”

Varric sighed and shrugged. “Well… maybe I was being a little harsh, though there was a time when that was true.”

“But not so much these days?”

Varric grimaced. “I don’t know. I don’t think she likes me very much. You were the one who walked in our spat. You could see that.”

Evelyn considered that. “I don’t know. I think that was more grief speaking than anger.”

Varric gave her a sharp look. “I know she thought that Hawke could have saved the Divine…”

“Exactly,” Evelyn said, raising an eyebrow at him. “You wrote Hawke as this grand romantic hero and you only have to speak to Cassandra a little bit on the subject to know she’s a fan of grand romantic heroes.” She paused and chewed on her bottom lip. “And she has taken the Divine’s death pretty hard, as much as she doesn’t like to show it.”

“She stabbed me in the book,” Varric grumbled.

Evelyn snickered. “That sounds like such a euphemism when you say it like that.”

Varric smiled wryly. “I know. That’s why I do it.”

Evelyn sobered. “She has tried making amends a few times. You’re the one who keeps shooting her down.”

Varric sighed then shot Evelyn a disgruntled look. “Why are you so interested in this anyway?”

“Because I’m deeply invested in the idea of you two being secret lovers, moving from hate to love in one comedy-filled moment after another,” she teased, figuring Varric would never believe it was the actual truth. Or more or less the truth.

Varric chuckled. “I thought you had enough on your hands with your own love life.” He grinned at her. “Nice work there on the battlements with Curly.”

Evelyn refused to blush. “Why, thank you.”

“So, I have to know,” Varric said slyly. “For the record, of course. A little birdy told me that Curly knew what he was doing. Not so much the shy blushing Chantry boy, eh?”

“Varric!” Evelyn said, unable to stop blushing now. Then she laughed. “I am not at all displeased with his efforts, let’s put it that way.”

“Well, good for him,” Varric said, looking impressed. “Didn’t think he had it in him.”

Evelyn frowned a little. “Why not? And why do you call him Curly?”

“He was a little uptight when I knew him in Kirkwall,” Varric said dryly. “And you should have heard him stumble over his words when he was talking about the girls at the Blooming Rose.” He saw Evelyn’s blank look and elaborated, “The brothel.”

“Well, he’s… reserved in many ways,” Evelyn said with a frown.

“Yeah, I figured that out since joining the Inquisition,” Varric said with a placating look. “And we didn’t exactly meet him in general social conditions or anything like that.” He shrugged. “As for the Curly thing…” He grinned. “He must be doing something with his hair. It was all curly back in Kirkwall.”

“Oh!” Evelyn paused and tried to picture Cullen with curly hair. She smiled. “You know, I think I want to see that.”

Varric chuckled. “Keep going how you have been and you might get lucky.”

Evelyn blushed and mimed a swipe at him. “ _Varric_!” She cleared her throat. “You know, you could be a bit nicer to Cassandra.”

Varric frowned and was silent for a while then he sighed. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I did lie to her about Hawke after all.” He sighed again. “I just didn’t know whether I could trust her.”

“You can,” Evelyn said softly. 

Varric gave her a quizzical look then laughed and shook his head. “You know, I’m almost starting to think you were serious about the secret lovers thing.”

Evelyn snorted. “You’ve been reading too many of your own books, Varric.”

Varric gave a bark of laughter and they returned to their task, Evelyn hiding a smile at what she considered to be a successful stage one of her plans.


	16. Twenty-Three - Male Rogue Lavellan/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I made a male Lavellan who is a real baby face then gave him a backstory where he's actually far older than he looks and that was why he was sent to the Conclave. His Keeper thought they would overlook someone who looked so young. Needless to say, Dorian doesn't realise Mahanon is older than he looks.
> 
> Note: Dorian does some agonising over what he thinks is Mahanon's age and there's some vague implications about horrible things in Tevinter.

Dorian paced back and forth in his rooms, his face a picture of distress and discontent. He’d been a fool in the past over a man but never in this way. He liked Mahanon. He was happy to admit that because _everyone_ liked Mahanon. Except for possibly the Chantry sisters since he consistently refused to be labelled the Herald of Andraste. But everyone else liked him. It was safe for Dorian to like him as well.

But he more than just _liked_ Mahanon. He wanted him. Desired him. There was probably a word that might fit there even better but he didn’t dare even think about that word. That word never lead to good places for him and this was just another example.

Mahanon was _young_. Far too young. To look at him he couldn’t be more then eighteen, possibly even less than that. Dorian was almost thirty and eighteen made him feel old. Less than that made him feel like a disgusting dirty old man. The fact that Mahanon was an elf only made it worse. He’d heard of men in the Imperium who…

Well, he wasn’t like those men. He would _never_ be like those men. So no matter how much he wanted Mahanon and desired him and wanted to spend hours bringing him pleasure, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He could only like Mahanon. Nothing more.

******

Dorian opened his eyes and blinked sleepily. His head was pounding and his brain felt like it was about to dribble out of his ears but despite that, he felt content. He also felt slightly stupid but considering the result of feeling slightly stupid was that he had Mahanon in his arms, he was prepared to live with that. Even if they were disappointingly clothed.

He’d kissed Mahanon today. Or yesterday actually since judging by the light coming in from the windows, it was close to dawn. They’d been talking about the debacle in Redcliffe with his father and he’d kissed Mahanon. Or Mahanon had kissed him. He was a bit fuzzy about that part but it probably didn’t really matter. They’d _kissed_. And then he’d remembered how _young_ he’d thought Mahanon was and he’d backpedalled and made his excuses and headed for the tavern where he’d proceeded to get spectacularly drunk.

He had a vague memory of almost getting into a fight of some description before Bull interceded but mostly he remembered drinking. Then Mahanon had turned up and dragged him out of the tavern. The elf had looked vaguely annoyed and Dorian remembered apologising and then, somewhere in the middle of his slurred apologies for being drunk, he’d apologised for kissing Mahanon.

Mahanon had glared at him hard enough that Dorian had actually been a little taken aback even through his drunken haze then he’d been dragged upstairs to the Inquisitor’s quarters. Mahanon had demanded an explanation and Dorian winced as he remembered how he’d babbled about how Mahanon was young, so _young_ , and Dorian shouldn’t be kissing anyone so young because it wasn’t right, even though he _wanted_ to kiss Mahanon. He wanted to do _more_ than kiss Mahanon.

Then Mahanon had laughed. He’d laughed loud and long and almost to the point of tears. Dorian had pouted, not knowing _why_ Mahanon was laughing and sure that it was at his expense somehow. Then the elf had cradled his cheek with one hand and grinned at him and said the sentence that had changed everything.

“I’m twenty-three, Dorian.”

Dorian could remember just staring at Mahanon with disbelief until the elf had repeated what he said. Then he’d kissed him again. It hadn’t been a very good kiss. He’d been too drunk for that and now he vowed to make it up to Mahanon many, many times. Because he could kiss Mahanon now. And do more. Soon. He would definitely do more soon.

“Go back to sleep, Dorian.”

Dorian looked down to find Mahanon looked up at him sleepily and he smiled. He couldn’t help it. The elf looked… adorable.

“Can’t,” he muttered. “Head hurts.”

Mahanon frowned and shifted. “You know that’s self-inflicted,” he said with amused sympathy as he caressed Dorian’s cheek.

Dorian whined and leaned into the caress. “Nrgh.”

Mahanon chuckled softly and extracted himself from Dorian’s embrace. “Stay there. I’ll get a potion.”

Dorian curled onto his side and threw his arm over his eyes. Despite the pain throbbing in his head, he was smiling.


	17. You're Here - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> av-mello over on tumblr wanted some cute fic to help with a murderous headache. I wrote this fluff about Cullen and Dorian.
> 
> This is set post-Trespasser so there are some very minor spoilers in it.

Dorian leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes wearily. It was well past midnight but he had to get this paperwork done before he could sleep. He had to speak in the Magisterium tomorrow and he wanted to be sure he was word perfect. It was going to be raucous enough as it was. If he couldn’t immediately produce a rebuttal to any and all objections, all his time and effort would have been wasted and that would be a setback they didn’t need. Maevaris had offered to do this or to have it put off for another week or two but they both knew it had to be him and it had to be now. Dorian was the one with the reputation for helping to save the world and with the Inquisitor… former Inquisitor’s… visit finishing only yesterday and thus everyone being reminded of Dorian’s part in saving the world, they both knew it couldn’t be put off. They had to strike while the iron was hot.

He leaned back in his chair and sighed. Evelyn had been curiously agitated during her visit, prone to breaking out into broad smiles and even giggling. She’d refused to tell him why and considering the smiles and giggles most likely involved Blackwall somehow, he hadn’t felt the desire to push. While he and Blackwall had become friend after a fashion, he wasn’t interested in Evelyn’s sex life with the bearded oaf.

Admittedly that reluctance to live vicariously through Evelyn had less to do with her lover being Blackwall and more to do with the fact that Cullen had been strangely silent, not answering his calls through the messaging crystals in the last few weeks. He’d whined about it to Evelyn and she’d done that smile and giggle thing so he’d let it drop. Cullen was busy. He knew that. Even though the Inquisition was all but disbanded now, Cullen still had responsibilities in seeing to the disbursement of the troops and sorting things out at Skyhold. Dorian couldn’t expect him to drop everything just because he called.

He was just building himself up to an excellent pity party when there came a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he said, grumbling under his breath about what could _possibly_ be so important at this time of night.

The door opened and one of his servants stuck his head through the gap. “My Lord? There’s a man here to see you. He refuses to come back in the morning.”

Dorian sighed. “Did he give you a name at least?”

“No, my Lord.”

Dorian waved a hand. “Send him in. I might as well get rid of him quickly if he’s going to be obstreperous enough to come knocking at this hour of the night.”

The servant nodded and disappeared and shortly afterward Dorian heard a measured tread behind the softer footsteps of the servant. It was a strangely familiar measured tread and Dorian sucked in a breath. Surely it couldn’t be…

The door opened again and it was. Cullen walked in and smiled at him. Dorian stared in surprise for a moment then he launched himself out of his chair and threw himself into Cullen’s arms.

“Oof,” Cullen said with a laugh. “If I’d known I was going to get this sort of reception, I’d have come earlier.”

Dorian huffed and concentrated on the feel of Cullen in his arms. The man was as solid as ever even without the armour to add to his bulk and when he buried his face in his neck, the familiar scent that had lulled him to sleep night after night was there under the scent of dust and sweat from a day of travelling.

“What are you doing here?” he said once he was sure his voice wouldn’t waver embarrassingly. “Evelyn didn’t say _anything_.”

“Evelyn was sworn to secrecy,” Cullen said, sliding his fingers under Dorian’s chin and tilting his head up so that he could kiss him.

Dorian concentrated on the kiss instead of the thoughts running around his head, melting into Cullen’s continued embrace. He could feel the stresses he’d gotten used to living with start to flow away and he deepened the kiss a little more, drawing a low moan from Cullen.

The next moment, he found himself pressed against the wall with Cullen plastered against his front, one leg sliding between his as the former Commander devoured his mouth. Dorian could only moan and whine and buck against his lover, wanting more, wanting everything. 

He whined when Cullen pulled away just far enough so that they could both suck in some desperately needed air and then he rested his forehead against Dorian’s.

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen said breathlessly. “I didn’t mean to molest you in your office.”

“I’m all for you molesting me in my office,” Dorian said, trying to rock against Cullen again. Cullen brought his hands down and gripped his hips tightly, stopping any further movement. “Turnabout is fair play and all that after the number of times I molested you in your office.”

“Later,” Cullen said. “I wanted a bath and a bed first.”

“That can be arranged,” Dorian said, tilting his head so that he could kiss his way along Cullen’s jaw. “Why didn’t Evelyn tell me you were coming?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Cullen replied, moving his head to give Dorian better access as he let out a breathy sound. “I finished things off at Skyhold earlier than I expected and Evelyn, Cassandra, Josephine and Leliana said if I didn’t get myself up here on my own, they’d throw me in a box and send me here by mail service.”

Dorian laughed and nipped at Cullen’s jaw. “Remind me to thank the ladies next time I write to them.” He stopped and looked Cullen in the eye. “Wait… you’re here.”

“Yes,” Cullen said with amusement.

“For good?” 

Hesitation washed across Cullen’s face at that and he licked his lips. “I… yes… if you want me here. I’d completely understand if having your male lover here would make things…”

Dorian didn’t let him finish that sentence. “Yes! Maker, _yes_. I want you here. Here in my house, my bed, my life, my _everything_. Everyone already knows my preferences and that I have no intention of hiding them. As long as we don’t have sex in the middle of the Magisterium, no one’s going to try and set us on fire.”

Cullen’s smile could have rivalled the sun it was so bright. “I… good. Evelyn has plans for… for Solas but there’s nothing I can’t do from here and I can travel if I need to.”

“Still neck deep in it then?” Dorian asked with a chuckle.

“Evelyn asked and… well, I owe her so much,” Cullen said. “And given what Solas is planning, I could hardly say no.”

“That was more or less my reasoning when she asked me,” Dorian said. One more thing occurred to me and he looked around at the ground. “And where is that enormous monster you adopted?”

“The pup is downstairs,” Cullen said with a laugh. “Your servants were falling over themselves to look after him.” He leaned in and kissed Dorian slowly before murmuring against his lips, “I thought I’d better make sure of my welcome before introducing you two properly.”

Dorian pulled him back into a kiss and began to slowly undulate against the other man. “Umm, best make it a very warm welcome.”

Cullen pulled Dorian against him tightly for a moment then very firmly stepped away. His lips were red and slick and Dorian surged after him to continue the job. Cullen caught him however then laughed at Dorian’s muttered curse.

“Bath,” Cullen said firmly. “I’ve been on the road all day. I’m covered in dust and I smell.” 

He then gave Dorian the most sultry look he could ever remember coming from the man. In fact, Dorian didn't know Cullen was capable of such a thing and that he could do so without blushing. Because there was no blush on his face right now, just a heavy banked desire that Dorian desperately wanted to bring to life.

“You could wash my back for me?”

Dorian tipped his head back and laughed. “Oh, Amatus, if you let me in that bath, I intend to do more than that.”

_Now_ Cullen blushed but that sultry smile remained. “Good.”

Dorian laughed again then caught Cullen’s hand and started pulling him from the room. The paperwork could wait. The Magisterium could go hang. He had far more important things to do right now and ever there was a pun he meant, that one was it.


	18. Tell Me - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I was going through my giant list o’ prompts and I wrote fluff. Well, a teeny bit of angst then fluff. Fluffy fluff. I was in a mood.
> 
> Seriously, this is just self-indulgent fluff.

“Tell me I have nothing to worry about.”

Cullen looked up from the report he was reading and stared at Dorian blankly. The mage had been pacing back and forth across his office for the last half an hour but since he hadn’t said anything, Cullen had returned to his work. Now though it seemed that he was ready to talk.

“What are you talking about?” Cullen said, looking baffled.

Dorian chewed on his bottom lip for a moment then came to a halt facing the desk. He looked worried and unhappy and Cullen was on the verge of getting up when he spoke.

“You and the Inquisitor. Tell me I have nothing to worry about.”

Cullen leaned back in his chair and sighed. He’d thought that was Dorian he’d seen walking away from them on the battlements. He hadn’t been sure at the time and he’d needed to deal with the situation with the Inquisitor so he hadn’t been able to follow. But it seemed that he was right. It _had_ been Dorian and he _had_ seen the Inquisitor kiss him.

“Dorian.” Now he got up and came round his desk because the mage was looking increasingly miserable the longer he delayed in answering and he couldn’t bear to see that expression on his lover’s face. He took one of Dorian’s hands in his own and raised it so that he could kiss his knuckles. “You have _nothing_ to worry about.”

“You kissed her,” Dorian said. He looked as though the words hurt to say but that somehow he was resigned to them being true.

“ _She_ kissed _me_ ,” Cullen said firmly. “And then I told her that I was sorry but I was already in love in someone else.”

Dorian looked up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes as though he could not understand what had just been said. And yet, deep in those grey eyes was hope and wonder.

“L… love?” he breathed.

“Yes, Dorian.” Cullen cradled his lover’s face with both hands and smiled. “I love you. I should have told you before but I…” His smile became rather wry. “I wasn’t sure if I would scare you off if I did.”

“You… you don’t… care for the Inquisitor?” Dorian asked, almost pleaded really.

Cullen let his thumbs brush lightly over Dorian’s cheeks. “Evelyn Trevelyan is a lovely woman and a good friend and I do care about her but I’m not in love with her. I’m in love with a beautiful…” He smirked and pressed a quick kiss to Dorian’s lips. “ _Impossible_ mage from Tevinter.”

“Amatus…” Dorian whispered, seemingly at a loss for any words beyond those.

The smirk on Cullen’s face deepened as he began to gently nudge Dorian towards the ladder leading upstairs. “And I think it’s time to show you exactly how much I love you.” He pressed Dorian against the ladder and this time when he kissed him, it was a searching, desperate kiss that left them both gasping and bucking against each other. “But only if you get up that ladder and into my bed.”

A slow, beautiful, _brilliant_ smile grew on Dorian’s face. It took Cullen’s breath away. Then the mage’s smile turned impish and he turned and grabbed hold of the ladder. He gave Cullen a sultry look and deliberately pushed his arse back into Cullen’s burgeoning erection then he scampered up the ladder and disappeared into the room above.

“I’m waiting, Amatus,” came floating down. “Don’t keep me waiting all day.”

Cullen laughed and headed up. He had a promise to keep and a mage to love.


	19. What Good Am I - Male Rogue Lavellan/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a follow up to [Twenty-Three](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/11838350). After that night, Mahanon and Dorian talk about the past and about them.
> 
> Please note: This fic discusses slavery, consent issues and some of the more dubious aspects of Dorian's past.

Dorian lounged in his chair in the library and pretended to read the book he was holding. Normally he would have been quite interested in what the book had to say but he still had the lingering edges of his hangover and between that and what had happened the previous night with Mahanon, he wasn’t quite in the mood for reading. It made for an excellent façade though, to keep away the curious and prying. 

“Are you actually reading that?”

Dorian gave a start and nearly dropped the book. He looked around to see Mahanon leaning against the wall nearby and then noticed that the library was oddly empty.

“Maker’s breath,” he said, setting the books aside. “How did you creep up on me and how late is it?”

“I’m very sneaky,” Mahanon said with a grin. “And it’s rather late.”

“You are very sneaky,” Dorian said with a fond smile. “I rather like that.”

Mahanon laughed then pushed himself off the wall. “Good. Now, since it is late and no one is here, I think I’ll do this.”

A moment later, Dorian found his lap full of a very attractive elf and he did the only sensible thing – pulled Mahanon closer and kissed him. The kiss was slow and sensual, an exploration rather than a passionate claiming, and Dorian _loved_ it. He had so rarely kissed anyone like this. Usually the kisses were mere preludes to sex but he was fairly certain this wasn’t where this was going tonight. When they finally separated from the kiss, Mahanon settled himself more comfortably then chuckled. 

“What amuses you so much, my dear Inquisitor?”

Mahanon’s chuckle became a fully-fledged grin and he shook his head. “I can’t believe you thought I was still a teenager.”

Dorian actually blushed at that and he pretended to scowl. “Have you looked at yourself in a mirror, Mahanon? I think my assumption was rather justified.”

The elven Inquisitor sobered and leaned in to kiss Dorian again. “I know,” he murmured against Dorian’s lips. “And I’m sorry. I should have mentioned it earlier. I just didn’t understand why you were blowing so hot and cold. I forget sometimes that I look so young.”

They exchanged a series of soft little kisses and then Dorian rested his forehead against Mahanon’s with a contented sigh.

“There is a long history of both men and women in my country taking advantage of young elven slaves,” he admitted quietly. “Because they can’t fight back. They can’t say no. I have never wanted to be like them. I want my bed partners willing and of age or not at all.”

“Firstly,” Mahanon said dryly. “I’m not a slave.” Dorian opened his mouth to speak but Mahanon placed a finger over his lips. “But I do understand what you’re getting at with that and I’m glad you’re not like that.”

Dorian looked uncomfortable. “I can’t say I’ve never bedded a slave but the ones in the brothels… are different. The Madam’s rules are more or less law in there and if she gives her permission for her slaves to slap fingers and say no then… they can and do. I’ve never been to a brothel where they didn’t have that permission.”

Mahanon chewed on that for a moment then he brushed his fingers lightly over Dorian’s cheek. “What were you doing in brothels, plural?”

Dorian blushed. “You know my preferences aren’t considered… acceptable in Tevinter and you know how my father feels about it. At one point I… rebelled against him, mostly by wallowing in brothels at all hours of the day and night. Debauchery became an integral part of my reputation in the hopes of hurting my father the way he’d hurt me.”

“Please tell me that the prostitutes were at least willing?” Mahanon said with a pained expression.

“Yes!” Dorian said hurriedly. “I always made sure of that even at my worst and made sure they knew they could say no.” He sighed and let his forehead fall into Mahanon’s shoulder. “I am not a good man, Mahanon, but I try not to be a complete bastard.”

Mahanon sighed and rested his cheek against Dorian’s head. “I don’t _like_ the way your country does things but I’m not irrational enough to blame you for it, Dorian. You didn’t put the system in place, you just… benefited from it. But I know you want to change things there and that’s really what matters.”

Dorian gave a whimsical smile. “I know we had the argument about slavery and Solas said if I wasn’t willing to do anything about it when I try to change things then how sorry am I about the fact that so many elves are enslaved…”

“I heard him say that,” Mahanon said with a chuckled. “He’s right, you know.”

“I know.” Dorian sighed. “I never really thought about it before. The slaves were just… there but you…” He raised his head. “You make me think about so many things.”

“Not all heavy, dreary things, I hope?” Mahanon said with a small smile.

“Far from it,” Dorian replied, running his fingers along the elf’s jaw. “But Solas is right. If I’m not willing to take it all on, what good am I really going to do?”

“Ouch. Did it hurt to say Solas was right?” Mahanon said with a straight face. “Should I pass that on to him?”

Dorian laughed and pulled Mahanon close, kissing, licking and nipping at his neck and jawline until the elf was rolling his hips against his and gasping out incomprehensible words in Elvhen.

“You are infuriating,” Dorian said before capturing the elf’s lips with his own.

“And you are magnificent,” Mahanon said when they broke away from the kiss.

Dorian smiled sadly. “My ego thanks you but we both know that’s not true.”

“Shh.” Mahanon kissed him. “You are magnificent.” He kissed him again. “Wonderful.” Another kiss. “Gorgeous.” Another kiss. “And hopefully mine.”

Dorian pulled him close and deepened the kiss again, sinking all that he was into it and giving everything he had.

“Yours,” he whispered against Mahanon’s lips. “Always yours.”

Mahanon smiled and climbed off his lap. He held out his hand. “Come. Time for bed. To sleep. Just sleep, Dorian. Anything more can wait.”

Dorian allowed Mahanon to pull his to his feet and he followed him obediently out of the library. This relationship was outside of anything in his experience so he was more than willing to let the elf take the lead. And after his shenanigans of the previous night, sleeping in Mahanon’s bed, in his arms, surrounded by his scent, sounded like his dreams come true.


	20. No Spring Chickens Here - Male Mage Trevelyan Inquisitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just realised today that I hadn't posted this one. This is Drake again, my older mage, and this is a continuation of [I'm Too Old For This](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/7748522) and [Pretty Men](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/7761851).
> 
> Drake has a schtick that's working for him and he'll be damned if he's giving it up before he absolutely has to.

Drake lowered himself onto a stool at the camp in Dwarfson's Pass with a low groan. "I am definitely too old for this," he said, reaching down to massage his calves. 

Varric's chuckle drew his attention and he smiled wryly at the dwarf as he joined him in front of the fire. "You and me both, Herald. All these hills. I'm a dwarf, not a mountaineer."

"I could leave you back in Haven," Drake said innocently. "With Cassandra."

Varric laughed. "You're a cruel, cruel man."

"No, I'm not. I bring you with me, don't I?"

Movement from the other side of the camp drew Drake's attention and he looked over to see Dorian emerging from one of the tents. The Tevinter Mage had shed his strange over-robe and was dressed only in the odd one-armed shirt and trousers he wore underneath. As Drake watched, the mage stretched his arms over his head, his head tipped backward.

"Wipe your chin, Herald."

Drake was swiping one hand over his chin before he really registered what Varric had said. He blinked and snatched his hand away.

"What?" he said with a startled look at a now-grinning dwarf.

"You were practically drooling over Sparkler there."

"I was not," Drake said indignantly, his gaze returning to the Tevinter mage. "I was just... admiring the scenery."

"Uhuh," Varric said with open amusement. "The scenery is in the other direction."

They are interrupted by Blackwall joining them. He also sat down with a groan.

"You sound like me," Drake said with a laugh.

"I'm not as young as I used to be," Blackwall admitted ruefully. "Thank the Maker."

"Cause a bit of trouble in your youth, did you?" Drake arched an eyebrow teasingly.

Blackwall looked oddly discomforted for a moment then he shrugged. "You could say that."

"Welcome to the club."

"What kind of trouble does a young Circle mage get into?" Varric said, giving the distinct impression his authorial ears had pricked up with interest.

Drake grinned. "Teenage boys and girls trapped in a tower in close proximity. What do you think we get up to, Varric?"

Both Varric and Blackwall laughed at that and Drake's gaze drifted back over to Dorian, who had wandered up to the potions table and was examining whatever was on there with interest. The Tevinter mage was one of the most attractive men he'd ever met and he struggled to stop himself from ogling. However, despite what he'd said to Leliana and Josephine, he really had no intention of pursuing the younger man, no matter how much he might want to. 

"You're drooling again."

Drake gave an exasperated huff. "Varric, do shut up."

The dwarf laughed and Blackwall turned slightly to see what Drake had been looking at.

"The Tevinter?" Blackwall looked dubious. "Really?"

"Drop it," Drake said, losing a bit of his sense of humour about the whole thing.

Blackwall and Varric seemed to realise that. They exchanged glances and struck up a conversation about the cult they'd visited that day. Drake let the conversation wash over him and stared down at the fire. 

“You’re really getting into the whole brooding hero routine, aren’t you?”

Drake looked up with a start as Dorian dropped down onto a stool with an ease and grace he quite frankly could only envy.

“Well, it seems to be the thing to do,” he said once he’d collected himself.

“It’ll work great in my book,” Varric added. “The brooding hero, the handsome mage, the stoic rugged warrior and, of course, yours truly… the plucky comic relief.”

“Why do I feel like I come off second best in that list?” Drake asked no one in particular.

“I think it works,” Dorian replied airily. “I _am_ very handsome after all.”

“Don’t I know it,” Drake muttered under his breath.

Dorian looked over at him curiously. “Pardon?”

Drake waved a hand. “Nothing. Just… grumbling over my ancient aching knees.”

“Hardly ancient,” Dorian said, giving Drake a once over that almost made the older mage blush. “In fact, you definitely have a distinguished noble hero look going for you.”

“That’s what I keep telling him, Sparkler.” Varric managed a truly impressive innocent look. “But he keeps moaning about being too old for all this shit.”

“That’s because I am too old for all this shit,” Drake said, shooting Varric a look that said quite clearly that he was not fooled by the dwarf’s attitude one bit. “This hero thing is for the young. Unfortunately…” He held up his marked hand. “ _Someone_ had a different idea.”

“Herald, you do realise that between me, Hero here, Tiny and Chuckles… hell, even the Seeker, we’re not exactly a brigade of spring chickens,” Varric said dryly.

“Shush, Varric,” Drake said with a hint of a smile on his lips. “Playing up my age has led to a very comfortable bed and all sorts of considerations from Leliana, Cassandra, Josephine and Cullen. I am a pampered Circle mage and I appreciate that sort of thing. Eventually they’re going to see through me – if they haven’t already – but until the day they call my bluff, I’m going to play it for all I’m worth.”

The others were all laughing by the end of that and Dorian gave him a nudge. 

“Well, in that case, Herald, your secret is safe with us.”


	21. Wait For Morning - Male Mage Lavellan/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a little post-Trespasser piece that came to mind when I look at this lovely piece of art [here](http://knight-enchanter.tumblr.com/post/138008913653/prismavore-a-short-reprieve). It features Joshel Lavellan, who I have previously written about [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4762802) and this is obviously set prior to that piece.
> 
> When all is said and done, all you can do is fall apart and wait until morning to pick up the pieces.

Joshel closed the door of the suite he’d been assigned in the Winter Palace and walked into the opulent rooms. He reached the middle of the room and came to a sudden halt as he started to shake. His arm ached… his entire _body_ ached… and he could feel the reaction to standing in front of the Exalted Council and rather melodramatically ending the Inquisition start to set in. 

He drew in a deep shuddering breath and started to undo his jacket with a single shaking hand. It proved difficult. He’d had his advisors here this morning and Cullen had helped him with the shirt and jacket with a deftness that made him wonder what kind of injuries Templars received in the line of duty and how much familiarity Cullen had with them. But that had been this morning. This was now.

“By the Dread Wolf!” he yelled as he tried to untangle the sash from the rest of the jacket then what he’d just said suddenly sank in. 

He started to giggle and even though he could hear the decidedly hysterical edge to it, he couldn’t seem to stop. He slumped to his knees on the floor and his giggles turned to great gulping sobs, still interspersed with hysterical laughter. He didn’t hear the door open, didn’t realise someone had come in until he found himself being drawn into a warm embrace. Then the person’s scent surrounded him and he slumped against Dorian.

He felt Dorian run a hand through his hair and down his back and heard him murmuring soothing words in Tevene and both things gradually calmed him down until he was leaning heavily against Dorian, feeling completely and utterly exhausted.

“What brought this on, hmm, Amatus?” Dorian asked softly.

Joshel nuzzled into Dorian’s chest and he gave a soft laugh. “I got frustrated with this stupid jacket and yelled out ‘By the Dread Wolf’.” He snickered. “I wonder if Solas hears it when we say that?”

“Now there’s an interesting question,” Dorian said dryly. “Now, come, Amatus. Let’s get you out of this ridiculous uniform.”

With Dorian’s help, Joshel got up and the mage helped him get undressed. Joshel stared longingly over at the bathtub and then finally shook his head.

“Are you sure, Amatus?” Dorian asked.

Joshel snorted. “I’ll just fall asleep. You’ll spend your time making sure I don’t drown.”

“Bed then.” Dorian quickly stripped himself and steered them both over to the bed. Once they were under the covers, Joshel burrowed into his lover’s embrace once again. “I’ve missed this,” Dorian said quietly.

“Me too,” Joshel replied before yawning. “Dorian… I don’t know what to do now.”

He felt a kissed being pressed to his forehead. “Shh, Amatus. That is a question for tomorrow when you have rested. You’ll have the answers then.”

Joshel hummed and snuggled closer to Dorian. He still hadn’t quite wrapped his mind around everything Solas had told him or around the fact that he was now no longer the Inquisitor. But Dorian was right. Things would, as they invariably did, seem better in the morning.


	22. Tol & Smol - Male Mage Adaar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little piece about my new Inquisitor, Teodor Adaar ([who can be seen here](http://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/post/138473356163/im-such-a-sucker-for-the-dorian-romance-so-here)) and his troubles with the fact that he is quite tol and everything else in Haven is a little smol.

Everything in Haven was just a little bit too small. It wasn’t anything unusual for Teodor Adaar. Humans built for humans just as elves built for elves and dwarves built for dwarves. Since Qunari – _Vashoth_ , he said firmly in his mind, he hated being called Qunari – were so much taller than anyone else, things made for humans or elves or dwarves were bound to feel a little small. He was used to it, having worked for so long as a mercenary. Only when he was at home with his parents or at the Valo-kas home base did he ever feel like things were the right size.

It didn’t really bother him with things like cutlery or plates or tankards. Sure, the cutlery felt a little fragile in his grip but plates were plates and tankards were tankards. The ones his parents had used were scarcely much bigger. It was things like beds and chairs and tables that always made him feel like a hulking brute. His feet tended to hang off even the longest of human beds and when he sat down he always felt like he was sitting on a child’s chair. He couldn’t even count the number of times he’d banged his knees on tables. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to mention the number of times he scraped or caught his horns on door frames. There was a reason beyond vanity why he wore the guards on his horns.

He’d have felt like the worst kind of clumsy oaf if he hadn’t seen Bull having the same problems however the older mercenary seemed to handle them with more grace.

“How do you do it?” he asked with some exasperation after he’d walloped his knees into the table _again_.

“Do what?” Bull replied amiably, draining half his tankard in one go. 

Bull seemed to be going out of his way to be as amiable and harmless as possible, probably due at least in part to Teodor’s suspicions about him. He couldn’t help it really. His parents had been fairly mild in their descriptions about life under the Qun right up until he’d manifested his magic. Then they’d sat him down and very seriously discussed things like Saarebas and the true way of things under the Qun. Including the Ben-Hassrath. It made him wary of Bull and it seemed like Bull knew that. Unsurprising really, being Ben-Hassrath and all.

It was why Teodor was making an effort to come round and drink with the Qunari and get to know him. It didn’t matter what his feelings were, he had to do what was right for the Inquisition as a whole and they couldn’t afford to have allies being viewed with suspicion because of his own personal problems. Where he led, these people seemed bound and determined to follow so he had to be careful what he did.

“Deal with all the… small… and… and short,” Teodor said, waving a hand somewhat incoherently.

Bull chuckled. “You get used to it. How long you been a merc for?”

“Since I was sixteen,” Teodor replied. “So, nine years now.”

“You’ve spent most of that time out in the field then?”

Teodor nodded. “Mostly. Shokrakar assigned me to lead my own squad four years ago but she’s only just started letting me tag along for negotiations recently.”

Bull eyed him with interest and nodded. “Sounds about right for someone your age and with your experience. So you haven’t dealt much with human houses and so on.”

“Well, yes and no,” Teodor replied. “I’ve been in my fair share of human houses and taverns and such but I just… everything’s just a bit too small.”

Bull laughed. “Yeah. You get used to it. You should tell that Ambassador of yours. I’m sure she could find something a bit bigger.”

“Nah,” Teodor said with a shake of his head. “She’s busy enough as it is. She doesn’t need to be dealing with something this trivial.”

The conversation drifted off into other subjects and Teodor didn’t think much more about it until he returned from the Fallowmire several weeks later. He was tired and felt like he was still carrying a mire’s worth of gunk and the stench of death with him. He sent Blackwall, Dorian and Sera off to their respective quarters and waved off Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine and Cullen with the plaintive request to at least be able to have a bath first before he reported in to them.

Josephine laughed. “Of course, Herald.”

Teodor smiled wearily and trudged off to the cabin he’d been given. He was tired enough that it took several minutes for the changes in the room to sink in.

The bath tub full of steaming hot water wasn’t really unusual. The people here knew what he liked by now so there was generally a hot bath waiting for him when he got back. But he’d never had a bathtub of that size before. It looked big enough for him to be able to stretch out instead of having to practically have his knees round his ears. 

And the bed was bigger. So was the table and chairs. Not much bigger, just big enough that he was sure his feet wouldn’t be hanging off the end of the bed and he wouldn’t feel like he was sitting in a child’s chair 

He stripped off his clothes and stepped into the bath, sinking down into it with a sigh of relief. It was big enough for him to stretch out and a slow grin began to grow on his face. The grin got bigger as he cleaned up and dressed and tested the bed and the chairs and the table. It stuck around as he made his way up to the Chantry and into the makeshift War Room.

“Thank you, Ambassador Montilyet,” he said with a small bow.

Josephine smiled, not even trying to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about. “A little bird mentioned that you were much taller than anyone else here. The point was easy to work out.”

Teodor laughed. “A little bird or a big Bull?”

“I never reveal my sources,” Josephine said primly though her eyes were full of mirth.

“Well, whatever the source, thank you,” Teodor said fervently. 

Josephine inclined her head, looking very pleased. “You are most welcome, Herald.”


	23. No Price - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I bookmarked [this prompt](http://cullrianprompts.tumblr.com/post/132395063171/dorian-is-a-ware-creature-or-shape-shifter-of) ages ago but never got around to doing anything with it. Then inspiration struck today.
> 
> _Dorian is a ware-creature (or shape shifter) of some sort and is being held captive by a travelling circus going around Ferelden and Orlais. His magic has also been bound so he cannot use it to free himself. Members of the Inquisition see the circus which has come to Halamshiral and when they leave after the show Cullen see’s Dorian (still the animal) being roughly shoved into a cage, and then forced to transform back into a human and chained to the cage bars. Cullen is determined to rescue him._
> 
> Note: There is a small moment of cruelty to an animal because the trainer is a dick.

It wasn’t just the ball. Cullen would have preferred it if all they were in Halamshiral for was the Empress’ Masquerade Ball. They could have come in the day before and left the day after and kept their time in Orlais to a minimum. Unfortunately, Josephine had nixed that idea almost before Cullen had managed to get it all out. They were to be there for a _week_ , culminating in the Masquerade Ball on the final night of their stay. Cullen was fairly sure the Inquisitor agreed with him but apparently too many allies and potential allies of the Inquisition wanted some time with the Inquisitor and his closest advisors for them to spend only a couple of days in the city.

Admittedly so far it hadn’t been too bad. The first day had been spent with a staunch ally of the Inquisition and he’d thrown a fairly raucous, very un-Orlesian party for them. Cullen had actually enjoyed himself a little, even if he had been forced to hide in a corner to avoid the man’s very… enthusiastic daughters. But the food had been good and the ale Fereldan so that had made up for a great deal.

Today’s entertainment wasn’t so bad either. A very wealthy Duke had paid for Bastian Brothers Circus to come to Halamshiral and put on an exclusive performance for the Inquisition and assorted lucky others. Cullen had heard of the Bastian Brothers Circus though he’d never had a chance to see it before. They’d never had the time or the money to travel to where the circus set up when it was near Honnleath and then he’d been in Templar training then at Kinloch. The circus didn’t travel to the Free Marches, preferring to stay in Fereldan and Orlais, so this was the first time he’d ever had a chance.

And it was just as amazing as he’d been told. Magnificent feats of acrobatic skill, trained animals, clowns and all sorts of skilful acts and performances. Adaar was clearly delighted by it all and his booming laughter and cheers could be heard over everything else. Cullen had been particularly fascinated by the latest act – a trained panther who performed the most astonishing feats – and he enthusiastically applauded the trainer as he lead the great cat out of the tent. As he did, he couldn’t help noticing the small frown on the face of Solas, who was sitting in front of him and just to the side.

There was one more act after that and then the show was over. They trooped out of the big tent and as he left, Cullen saw the black panther being led away. He hesitated for a moment then deftly moved out of the crowd, planning on speaking to the trainer about how he’d managed to tame such a magnificent creature. He came round the side of the tent just in time to see the trainer grab hold of the huge cat’s collar and roughly drag him towards a cage. The panther yowled and tried to struggle but the trainer brought his fist down on the beast’s shoulder and then shoved it into the cage.

Cullen scowled and took a step forward but something made him stop as the trainer snapped a chain to the collar and then a second one. The trainer then pulled out a thin rod and touched it to the panther’s collar. The panther yowled in pain and started writhing in agony. Cullen drew in a sharp breath but still he did not move. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t, only that it seemed important that he watch and not intervene.

And as he watched, the panther writhed and turned into a human.

Cullen’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. A shape-shifter! It was one of the rarer mage talents, at least in Fereldan. He hadn’t seen one since he’d been in Kinloch and even then that mage could only shift into the form of a large spider. This man was however clearly not Fereldan. His skin was dark and when he cursed, his accent was unlike anything Cullen had ever heard before. He was also beautiful. He might be scruffy and unkempt and dressed in rags but underneath that was a truly beautiful man. 

And a mage. Cullen saw the man raise a hand and a shimmer of sparks surround his fingers but as that happened, the collar the man was wearing glowed white and the man gasped and cried out in pain, collapsing to the floor of the cage. The trainer laughed and kicked the beautiful mage in the ribs then left, locking the cage door behind him.

“Come, Commander.”

Cullen gave a start and whirled around to stare at Solas. He hadn’t even known the elven mage had followed him.

“What?”

Solas smiled thinly, though there was a banked anger in his eyes. “I do not think they would take kindly to us discovering the true nature of their prize act.”

“I can’t leave him there,” Cullen protested.

Solas took his arm. “You must. For now, at least. However I think freeing him is something better done under the cover of darkness.”

Cullen reluctantly allowed himself to be dragged away to join the others. He even managed to choke out some halfway sincere congratulatory comments to the Bastian brothers and their people, though he did get an odd look from both Adaar and Cassandra. Once the small gathering was done, he stalked back to his room and was somehow entirely unsurprised to find Solas waiting with the strange boy, Cole, hovering beside him.

“Cole has insisted on helping,” Solas said.

“Dark despair, cold steel, hopeless longing. Came south to escape but walked into something just as bad. Can’t bear this, let me go or kill me. Please.”

Cullen flinched away from those words and then clenched his hands into fists. “Can you pick locks, Cole?” he said in a grating tone.

The strange spirit boy nodded and smiled from under his hat. “I can. I _will_!”

“I think we need not involve more than the three of us,” Solas said smoothly. “Between our respective skill sets, there is little we could not handle.”

Cullen nodded. “That’s… fair.”

He sent for some proper food and wine and they settled in to wait. At sunset, they made their way separately out of the house and met up just as full darkness fell near the circus encampment.

“Well, Commander?” Solas said. “What are our orders?”

Cullen looked over at Cole. The young man made him nervous and twitchy but even he had to admit that Cole had never shown any ill intentions since he joined the Inquisition. He might not feel easy around the boy but he was willing to trust him.

“Cole, is anyone awake?”

Cole cocked his head as thought he was listening to something they couldn’t hear. “No, all are asleep, though some rest lightly, on the cusp of waking.”

“Right,” Cullen said with a nod. “We make our way to the cage one by one. _Quietly_. I’ll go first. Cole you follow me. Solas, watch our backs. I’ll wake him. Hopefully he’ll trust us…”

“He will,” Cole said with an eerie certainty.

Cullen gave him a long look then continued, “Cole, you’ll deal with the door. Solas, do you think you can deal with the enchantment on that collar?”

Solas nodded. “I believe I can. I daresay it is an enchantment to stop him from using his magic. I know of those.”

“Good.” Cullen looked around. “Alright. I’m going. Cole, wait a few minutes. Give me time to get there and explain what’s going on.”

Cole nodded and Cullen began to quietly creep through the encampment. He’d left his armour at the house, not wanting to risk making a noise, though he had brought his sword. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it but he was quiet willing to cut down anyone who would keep a person captive like this.

It didn’t take long to reach the cage and he paused for a moment to look at the man. Up close both his scruffiness and his beauty were more obvious, even in the dim light provided by the moon. He proved to either be awake or easily woken because as soon as Cullen crouched by the side of the cage, the man was up and on his haunches, scuttling away fearfully.

“Easy,” Cullen whispered, glancing over his shoulder for a moment to ensure no one had woken in the camp. “I’m a friend. I’ve come to get you out.”

The man stared at him with disbelief. “What?” he hissed warily.

“My friends and I have come to get you out,” Cullen repeated. “My name is Cullen.”

The man stared at him with a fragile dawning hope that chased the wariness and despair across his face. “You have? Why?”

Cullen gaped at him for a moment, that he’d even _ask_ that question. “Because it’s the right thing to do. You’re clearly here against your will. What else are we supposed to do?”

“And what is your price?” the man whispered bitterly. “What cage will _you_ put me in?”

Cullen looked appalled. “None!” he yelped then he winced and looked around, hoping he hadn’t woken anyone. When there was no movement, he continued. “There is no price, no cage. I am the Commander of the Inquisition’s Forces. I can help you get to wherever you need to go. There is no price on my help… on _our_ help.”

The man stared at him intently, as though trying to determine whether or not he was telling the truth. Finally he gulped and nodded. As he did, Cole materialised seemingly out of nowhere beside Cullen and the Commander bit back a yelp of surprise.

“Cole!” he hissed.

“Sorry,” the young man said, hanging his head. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Cullen bit back the words that threatened and nodded towards the cage door. “Get it open.”

Cole slipped past him and went to work. As he did, Solas slipped out of the shadows and joined them. 

“It seems all quiet still, Commander,” the elven mage said then he nodded at the scruffy man and gave him a small smile. “I am Solas. I know much of containment charms. I should be able to rid you of the one on that detestable collar.”

The man swallowed hard and then nodded jerkily. He seemed almost unable to believe this was really happening.

Cole have a quiet cry of triumph and the door to the cage swung open. “I’ll guard you,” the boy whispered then he seemed to disappear into the shadows.

Cullen didn’t spare him a second glance. Instead he gestured for Solas to go to work. The elven mage slipped into the cage and beckoned the man forward.

“It is alright. We mean you no harm.”

The man edged his way forward and titled his head to allow Solas access to the collar. The elf ran his fingers delicately over the metal and muttered Elvhen imprecations under his breath. Finally he placed his fingers very deliberately on the collar and muttered something Cullen didn’t understand. The collar glowed blue for a moment then simply crumbled into dust. Solas quickly caught the two chains and lowered them to the floor silently. The man gave a soft cry of relief and just for a moment flames bloomed around his hands. Open, naked relief flooded over the man’s face and very briefly he looked like he wanted to weep with joy.

Cullen held out his hand to the man. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

The man stared at him with wonder and then reached out and took his hand. Cullen helped him out of the cage and then braced him as his knees wobbled underneath him.

“I thought I’d never be free again.”

Cullen barely heard those whispered words and he had to swallow the lump they caused to form in his throat. How long had the man been held captive by the circus?

“Let’s go,” he repeated when he was able to talk again.

The man nodded and took a couple of steps. He then stopped and looked over at Cullen. “Dorian,” he said hesitantly. “My name is Dorian.”

Cullen smiled. “Let’s get you somewhere safe, Dorian.”


	24. Worth The Risk - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of [Chapter 22 - No Price](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/13655407). Basically this is what happens next. I do have some possible ideas for continuing this so there may be more actual plot type stuff later.

They made their way quietly out of the camp and through the streets of Halamshiral. Cullen could see Cole flitting back and forth in front of them and he knew Solas was following but the man Dorian stuck close by his side. It didn’t take long to get back to the house where they were staying and when they did, they found Adaar waiting for them at the front gates.

“You got him then?” he said with a small smile.

Cullen blinked and heard Solas’ dry chuckle behind him.

“Perhaps I should have told you that I informed the Inquisitor?”

“I told him not to,” Adaar replied. He stepped forward then stopped when Dorian flinched away and slid part way behind Cullen. “Hi. I’m Kaaras Adaar. They kind of insisted on making me Inquisitor but I’m a Vashoth mercenary from the Free Marches in real life.”

The rather jocular description drew a smile from Dorian and he eased his way out from Cullen’s protection.

“Dorian Pavus,” he said. He was clearly trying to affect a casual air but failing miserably. “Recently of Minrathous, though I seem to have made a slight unwanted detour in recent times.”

“Welcome,” Adaar said warmly. “We’ll look after you and I can personally assure you that you will not take any more unwanted detours.” Dorian looked a little stunned and disbelieving but he nodded and Adaar continued. “I’ll leave you in Cullen’s very capable hands then.”

The Inquisitor turned and headed inside, followed by Solas and Cole. Cullen watched the mage – _Tevinter_ mage, who’d have thought that? – then placed a hand lightly on his shoulder.

“Dorian?”

The mage looked over at him, that wondering expression back on his face. “Wh… what now?”

“How does a bath, some food and a comfortable bed sound?”

Dorian gave a broken laugh. “Like I’ve fallen asleep and I’m being tempted by a demon.”

Cullen looked startled for a moment then he placed both his hands on Dorian’s shoulders. “You’re not in the Fade, Dorian. I promise you.”

Dorian just looked more distressed. “But this is really the sort of thing I’ve dreamed of. Being rescued by an impossibly handsome man who then asks for nothing in return.”

Cullen stuttered for a moment then he gathered himself together and started to guide Dorian inside the house. “This isn’t a dream, you’re not in the Fade and there are no demons. This is real, Dorian.”

“I’d been there so long, I’d given up hope,” Dorian admitted after a moment, looking around the corridors of the house with relief. “How did you… find out?”

“I wanted to speak to the trainer,” Cullen admitted a little shamefaced. “I couldn’t believe the things he was getting you to do and I wanted to know how. When… when I saw you transform, I… I had to get you out.”

Dorian made a small sound. “Then I think I’m glad I actually put on a good performance tonight.”

“How long had you been there?” Cullen asked.

Dorian ran a hand down his face and grimaced. “I’m… not sure. I was supposed to be meeting a friend at Redcliffe. His father… had done something very stupid.”

Cullen frowned. “Your friend is from Tevinter?”

Dorian nodded. “Yes. Why?”

“He’s gone then,” Cullen replied. “The rebel mages were up to something there but they left several months ago. When we saw them next they’d joined this Tevinter group called…”

“The Venatori,” Dorian said with disgust. Then he sighed wearily. “I came to… try and do something about them.”

“You still can,” Cullen replied as he came to a halt in front of a door.

“How?”

“The Inquisitor did say we’d help you. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you stayed,” Cullen replied. He found himself hoping the man would stay, even though he was a mage and a mage from Tevinter at that. He still had his nightmares and wariness about magic but… Dorian somehow seemed to evade most of the things that still put his hackles up. At least he had so far. He hadn’t really seen the man use magic so he had no idea whether it would last. He hoped it would.

“A Qunari would let a Tevinter mage stay?” Dorian asked dubiously.

Cullen chuckled and opened the door, ushering Dorian inside. “Don’t let him hearing you call him Qunari. He’s Vashoth and he’s very firm about that.”

“I’ll pretend I know the difference,” Dorian said. He looked around curiously. “Where are we?”

Cullen blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, my rooms. Um. My bathroom is ready for you to use so you… do that and I’ll find you some clothes and organise another room for you.”

Dorian had tensed at first but as Cullen blushed and stammered his way through the explanation – and was obviously sincere about it – his fears that there was actually a price to be paid for his rescue began to fade.

“Thank you,” he said with his first sincere smile in… far too long.

He almost laughed when Cullen blushed and hurried out of the room. He waited for a moment after the door closed then when it became obvious that the other man really _had_ left, he opened the door to the bathroom. He almost wept at the sight. It was lavishly appointed, utterly Orlesian and featured a deep sunken bath in one corner. He hurried over and turned on the spigot, letting the bath fill as he stripped off the ragged remains of his clothes. A simple spell heated the water to his preferred temperature and he slowly lowered himself into the bath with a moan that he might have been embarrassed about if there had been anyone there to hear it.

He simply wallowed in the hot water for a moment then he reached for the soap, gave it a sniff and then began to scrub himself clean for the first time in months. When he finally emerged from the bath, he felt like his old self for the first time since he’d set foot in Orlais. At least until he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He grimaced at the growth of beard on his face and his shaggy hair and rather unashamedly rooted around in the small bag that held the Commander’s toiletries until he found a pair of scissors, a razor and shaving soap. He hoped the man wouldn’t mind him appropriating the items but he refused to look like a hobo.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips, he’d shaved and trimmed his moustache back into its normal shape and he’d trimmed his hair as best as he could. The regrowth of his body hair would have to wait until he had a razor of his own. He was willing to take liberties with other people’s belongings but only so far.

In the bedroom he found a pile of clothes and a note sitting on the bed. He picked up the note and read it:

_Dorian,_

_I hope these fit. I’ll be outside when you’re done. I’ve arranged for a room for you and our host’s servants have promised to have a few necessities delivered to you first thing tomorrow morning._

_Cullen._

“What an impossible man,” he murmured as he set the note aside. 

When he picked up the clothes, he suspected they were some of Cullen’s own clothing. They were about the same size and the scent of them was very much that of the man who had rescued him that evening. He pulled them on and even though they were not the sort of thing he’d usually wear, he smiled nonetheless. He headed for the door and opened to find the man in question leaning against the opposite wall.

Cullen looked up as the door opened and nearly choked. Dorian was clean and had shaved and cut his hair and he looked stunningly beautiful. And he was wearing Cullen’s clothes. His breath caught then he quickly gathered himself. 

“Dorian! You look…” He cleared his throat. “How do you feel?”

“Rather like myself again,” Dorian replied, amused at Cullen’s reaction. He was aware that his rescuer was attracted to him but much to his surprise, Cullen seemed bound and determined to be chivalrous and not take advantage. After all he’d been through, it was… gratifying. And adorable.

“They, uh, gave you the room next to mine,” Cullen said, gesturing to a door just down the hall.

Dorian followed Cullen into the bedroom and saw a freshly made and turned down bed, ready and waiting for him, as well as a tray of fruit and cheese and a carafe of wine. Cullen noticed where he was looking and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I took the liberty of arranging for the food and wine,” he said awkwardly. “I wasn’t sure when you’d last eaten.”

“This morning,” Dorian said, making a beeline for the food. He paused after pouring himself some wine and looked curiously at Cullen. “Aren’t you going to ask? About…”

“I, uh, assume you’re a shapeshifter,” Cullen said, shifting from foot to foot. “It’s an uncommon ability in Fereldan mages but I have seen one before.”

Dorian swallowed and wondered whether he should just go with that. But this man had rescued him for no other reason than because it was the right thing to do. He owed him some honesty at the very least.

“I’m not. A shapeshifter, that is,” he said. “I _am_ a mage but I’m also a… a werewolf. Well, not a were _wolf_ obviously. A were-creature, I suppose would be the most accurate term.”

Cullen’s eyes widened I surprise. He had heard of werewolves and there had been rumours about some in the Brecilian Forest but he’d never seen one for himself. He hadn’t known there were other types of were-creature.

“Obviously you weren’t… born that way?” he asked hesitantly.

Dorian smiled thinly. “No. It was an… unexpected side-effect of a… blood magic ritual my father attempted to use on me. I’m honestly not sure who was more surprised at the result, him or me.”

Cullen frowned and took an aborted step forward. “Your father tried to use _blood magic_ on you?” He sounded outraged and was completely unapologetic at that reaction.

Dorian looked away and Cullen thought he could see grief and betrayal and resignation on his face before his expression smoothed out.

“Yes, well, apparently my father is no better than any other Magister in Tevinter,” he said bitterly.

“Why would he do that?” Cullen demanded then he abruptly drew back and rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Uh, I mean, if you want to tell me. You’re not obligated to.”

Dorian looked at him with surprise and growing amusement. This man was utterly ridiculous. Handsome and yet seemingly unaware of it. He was kind and generous and an almost literal knight in shining armour yet he wanted nothing in return. He was clearly attracted to Dorian and yet he made no move whatsoever. In fact, Dorian suspected that if _he_ were to make a move right now on Cullen, he would be gently and kindly rejected and not because Cullen didn’t want him but because he would feel he was taking advantage.

“I prefer the company of men,” he said then when Cullen gave him an uncomprehending look, he huffed. “As in sex.”

Cullen blushed. “I, well, yes. I assumed that’s what you meant. I gather that’s not…”

“Acceptable in Tevinter,” Dorian said sourly. “You would be right. My father… indeed, most of Tevinter society… disapproves. It is considered shameful and must be kept secret. I refused to do so and thus my father decided to make me… _normal_.” He gestured to himself. “He could have turned me into a drooling vegetable; instead he made me a were-creature. How delightful for both of us.”

Cullen reacted almost instinctively to the bitter and pained tone of Dorian’s voice. He closed the gap between them and placed a warm hand on the mage’s shoulder.

“Your father is a fool,” he said, forcing himself to look Dorian in the eye despite the way he knew he was blushing. “You’re fine just the way you are.”

Dorian’s smile was sad and winsome. “The things you say. You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” Cullen said firmly. “And you’ll be safe with the Inquisition. From the circus and from your father. I promise you that.”

“I’m not sure that’s a promise you can make,” Dorian replied. He wanted to believe Cullen. Oh, how he wanted to believe him.

“I am the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces,” Cullen said, raising his chin slightly. “And I am sure both Leliana and Josephine would be equally as determined to protect you once they know what has happened to you. Dorian, you _are_ safe here.”

Dorian felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff and that he had a choice between scuttling backwards and cowering in fear on his own or taking a leap off the edge and trusting that these people would catch him. He gave Cullen a long, steady look and for once his life, he decided to jump.

He gave a shaky nod then something occurred to him. “And when your Inquisitor decides to use my… ability to his advantage?”

“I can’t say he won’t want to do that,” Cullen said slowly. “He’s grasped the politics of his situation far better than I would have in his position and knows how to use every advantage for the Inquisition but after working with him for the last several months, I can say this. He will only ever _ask_.” He smiled a little. “He might decide to try giving you forlorn looks and puppy eyes in an effort to convince you, which is always quite a sight to behold, but he won’t ever force you to do anything you genuinely don’t want to do.”

Dorian tried to imagine the enormous Qunari… _Vashoth_ … he’d met so briefly earlier looking forlorn and trying the sad puppy eyes and the giggle escaped him before he realised what was happening. Even though there was a faint hysterical edge to it, the giggle prompted a snicker from Cullen and before he knew it, they were both laughing and Dorian was leaning on the other man. In return, Cullen had automatically wrapped an arm around his waist and it gave him a warm and safe feeling that he didn’t want to give up very easily.

When they finally managed to stop laughing, Cullen realised the position they were in and he started to straighten awkwardly. Dorian caught his hand before he could withdraw it and Cullen stilled.

“Dorian?” he asked carefully.

“Would I sound terribly sad and pathetic if I… asked if I could stay with you?” Dorian said, looking down at his feet. “As lovely as this room is and as much as I appreciate being in something akin to civilisation again, I… would rather not be alone tonight.”

“It doesn’t sound sad and pathetic at all,” Cullen said gently. “It sounds perfectly understandable.”

He shifted Dorian around so that they were walking side by side with Cullen’s arm still around Dorian’s waist. When they got back to his room, Cullen undressed to his pants and shirt and shifted his sword so that it was leaning against the bedside table. He didn’t say a word about it but Dorian appreciated the unspoken vow to keep him safe. He climbed into the sinfully soft bed and after he’d doused the candles, Cullen joined him. Dorian hesitated for a moment then edged over towards the other man.

“May I…?” he asked hesitantly.

Cullen chuckled and pulled him into his arms. Dorian gave a sigh of relief and curled up against the other man. There was nothing remotely sexual about their embrace and as he slipped into sleep, Dorian couldn’t ever recall feeling safer.

******

Cullen slowly woke to the sound of soft voices coming from the other side of the room.

“You know… that’s just adorable.”

“It is rather sweet, isn’t it?”

“It would be infinitely better if they’d decided to go without their shirts.”

That the last comment had been made by Leliana finally registered in Cullen’s slowly wakening brain and he opened his eyes to find that he was being watched with great amusement by Adaar, Josephine and the aforementioned Spymaster. He also became aware that he and Dorian were rather firmly tangled together with Dorian’s face tucked into his neck under his chin and that he was achingly hard.

He glared at them, even as a blush flooded over his face. “What are you doing?” he demanded in a loud whisper. He didn’t dare put the kind of force he wanted to behind the words given Dorian was still sound asleep. 

“The servants reported that our new friend hadn’t slept in his bed so we came to speak to you to find out what had happened to him,” Adaar said with a grin. “And found this.”

“Nothing happened,” Cullen snapped. Dorian shifted in his arms and murmured sleepily and he glared at them with exasperation. “Get out.”

Josephine and Leliana giggled in eerie unison. Adaar chuckled and began to herd the women towards the door. Just as he pushed them out, he looked back.

“Perhaps something ought to happen, don’t you think?”

Cullen’s glare could have felled a lesser man. Adaar simply grinned a little wider and closed the door quietly. It wasn’t that the idea hadn’t occurred to him the previous night… more than once… but it would be inappropriate so soon after Dorian had been rescued. He didn’t want the other man thinking he was obligated.

“Who was that?” Dorian murmured before giving a little yawn that made Cullen’s heart thump.

“Some very annoying people,” Cullen replied, hoping Dorian might fall back to sleep before he noticed the state Cullen was in.

Unfortunately his luck had never been that good. He knew the moment Dorian felt the hard length pressed against his hip when he sucked in a startled breath and went very still.

“Um… I…”

Dorian rolled his hips against Cullen’s and it was all the Commander could do not to move. He certainly couldn’t stop the groan that escaped him.

“Dorian,” he said breathlessly. “You don’t have to…”

“I know,” Dorian said with a soft smile. “You adorable, impossible man. I _know_ that.”

“And I don’t want this to be…” Cullen blushed deeply. “To be just about… about sex. I want to… know you. Who you are. Everything.”

Dorian felt his heart clench at being offered everything he’d ever wanted on a silver platter by a man like this. “I do too.”

He rolled his hips against Cullen’s again, revelling in the way the man threw back his head and moaned. Then his hips were being held tight and still by strong hands.

“ _Dorian_ ,” Cullen said rather desperately. “There are things… things in my past. You should know… I wasn’t… I haven’t always been a good person. Especially not to mages.”

Dorian was aware that things were different in the South for mages and the idea that this man who had rescued him so selflessly had been like that did make him pause but then that salient fact came back to him – this man had rescued him, for no reason other than because it was the right thing to do and without wanting anything in return. That spoke volumes as far as he was concerned.

“Have you changed?”

“Yes.”

“Do you regret what you did?”

“Yes.”

Dorian smiled. “Then the rest we can deal with later.” He leaned over. “Right now I would very much like to kiss you. May I?”

Cullen swallowed hard. “Maker, yes.”

“The Maker has nothing to do with this,” Dorian said archly before he pressed his lips to Cullen’s.

The kiss started out tentative and uncertain then Cullen tilted his head just a little and it was as though everything clicked into place. The kiss turned heated and lewd and Cullen’s hands released from their iron grip on Dorian’s hips to slide around to cup his buttocks. Even through the thin fabric of his pants, Dorian could feel their heat and strength and he moaned a little into the kiss. Cullen nipped at his bottom lip and used those strong hands to pull their bodies tightly together even as he rolled them to that he was pressing Dorian into the mattress.

“Fasta vass!” Dorian gasped as that caused their erections to grind together in the most delicious way. He threw his head back and Cullen immediately began kissing and biting and licking his way down his neck.

His fingers dove into the curly blond hair on Cullen’s head – and weren’t those curls just a _delight_! He hadn’t realised Cullen’s hair was _curly_ despite seeing the small jar of hair cream when he’d raided his toiletries the previous night – to encourage his actions while his other hand gripped the man’s shirt tightly. The feel of the fabric in his fist brought home the fact that there were far too many clothes between them.

“This. Off,” he demanded, tugging at the offending shirt.

He was unable to stop the whine when Cullen pulled away even if it was to rear up on his haunches and pull off his shirt. Dorian’s hands were drawn inexorably to the pale skin marred by old scars that was revealed. He ran his fingers through the blond hair that curled so tantalisingly on Cullen’s chest and followed it down to the waistband of his pants. When he looked up, Cullen’s eyes were dark with lust and affection and he smiled.

“My goodness, what do they feed you here in the south,” he said in as sultry a tone as he could manage.

He laughed with delight at Cullen’s blush, the way it spread down his neck and over his shoulders and the top of his chest.

Cullen licked his lips then gestured to Dorian’s shirt. “Turnabout is fair play.”

Dorian hesitated for a moment then he pulled off his shirt. “I’m normally not this… _hairy_.”

Cullen gave him an odd look. “You don’t like it?”

Dorian grimaced. “On me? No. On you?” His gaze drifted up and down Cullen’s body lasciviously. “Definitely.”

The blush was back and Dorian could only laugh and pull Cullen back down so that he could kiss him some more. He was so lost in Cullen’s kisses as they rutted against each other that his orgasm caught him by surprise. He arched up against Cullen, his hands tight against his shoulders, as he came then Cullen was pressing him down into the mattress with a shuddering curse as he followed him over the edge.

They lay as they were for a moment, both drawing in deep breaths, then Cullen eased himself off and lay down next to Dorian, slinging one arm over his chest. It was that unconscious, unthinking act of affection that almost undid Dorian. Cullen really meant what he said. He wasn’t rolling over and getting up and leaving, discarding Dorian as so many men had done before once they had what they wanted.

He shifted slightly and grimaced at the sticky wetness in his pants then he moved so that he was in Cullen’s embrace again, an embrace that Cullen gave easily and with a warm chuckle.

“We need a bath,” he said as he nuzzled at the side of Cullen’s face.

“We do,” Cullen replied lazily, something Dorian would soon come to realise was rare for the man and to be treasured all the more because of that. “That bathtub is big enough for us both, I think.”

Dorian smiled secretively at this further evidence that Cullen meant what he said. This was _not_ a one night stand. He truly wanted to try, to see what this was between them. He could scarcely believe how quickly things had changed for him in less than a day and part of him wanted to run – because he was scared, because this was so new, _too_ new, because he wanted to see if Cullen meant it when he said he was truly free to do whatever he wanted even if that meant leaving – but this man? This good honest man? The kind of man Dorian had always been told did not exist and if he did, would never want him for anything more than meaningless sex? This man was worth taking a risk for.

“It probably is,” he said, pressing a kiss to Cullen’s neck and getting a small laugh in response as he tickled him with his moustache. “And then I think I ought to meet this Inquisitor of yours. Get the formalities over and done with.”

The smile he got for that was worth every doubt and worry in his mind.

“We can do that.”


	25. Acceptance - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of the Dorian is a were-creature fic from [Chapter 22 - No Price](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/13655407) and [Chapter 23 - Worth The Risk](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/14004049).
> 
> Dorian meets with the Inquisitor and discovers acceptance comes in many forms.

Dorian fidgeted nervously as he waited outside the suite the Inquisitor had been given. Cullen had been in there for longer than he’d expected and it made him wonder what was going on. Given his recent experiences, that meant wondering whether he was to end up a prisoner again and whether he should run now before that could happen.

“No, Cassandra!”

Dorian twitched as he could suddenly hear Cullen’s loud angry voice. He didn’t know who Cassandra was or what she had said to prompt that response from Cullen but it served to only ratchet up his nerves to the point where, when the door suddenly opened, he actually squeaked and flinched.

In the doorway was the Inquisitor, blocking the view in either direction. The enormous Vashoth had a rather wry look on his face and he beckoned to Dorian.

“Would you mind joining us, Dorian? The arguments are getting a bit circular and I’m tired of that when you could actually answer the questions I have.”

Dorian swallowed and nodded. He followed the Inquisitor into the room and then made a beeline for Cullen. The Commander was wearing his full armour today and his expression was stern… right up until he looked over at Dorian then it softened and he smiled slightly. When Dorian came to stand beside him, Cullen brushed their fingers together and Dorian felt himself relax a little.

“I understand you’d like to join the Inquisition,” the Inquisitor said as he took his seat again. Dorian was amused to see that the Vashoth slouched down in it like he really didn’t want to be there, though one look at the lively intelligence in his eyes decried that thought.

“I, uh, I do,” Dorian said. “Though I wasn’t aware it would be such an issue.”

“It isn’t,” Adaar said firmly, overriding the scoffing sound from the tall severe-looking woman standing to one side. 

Adaar arched an eyebrow at her and she had the good grace to subside. The Vashoth then looked at all the people in the room and seemed to make a decision.

“Alright,” he said firmly. “Everyone except Dorian… out.”

The three women in the room hesitated then bowed slightly and left but Cullen stayed and placed a hand on Dorian’s shoulder.

“Inquisitor?”

Adaar grinned. “Don’t worry, Cullen. I’m not going to monster your man. Out.”

Cullen opened his mouth then closed it again and bowed, his expression grim. “As you wish, Inquisitor.”

Adaar waited until the door had closed behind Cullen then he grinned at Dorian. “I’m going to pay for that with a lot of very pointed ‘Inquisitors’ and ‘yes, sir’ comments in the next couple of weeks.”

Dorian managed a faint smile but his nerves were now running rampant. Adaar seemed to notice that and his expression turned very kind.

“Relax, Dorian,” he said. “I’m not going to throw you out or throw you in a cell or anything else. I’m not going to threaten you or force you to do anything you don’t want to do.” He grinned again. “Cullen would have my head if I did, Inquisitor or not. Quite the champion you’ve got there and I think that more than anything else is what has Cassandra all riled up.”

“I suppose she thinks I’m manipulating him,” Dorian said sourly.

Adaar laughed. “I think she’d like to make that suggestion and she certainly insinuated it. Cullen roared at her quite nicely. I’m not sure which insult he was more annoyed about – the one directed at you or the one directed at him.”

“You don’t think I’m manipulating him.” Dorian didn’t even bother making it a question. He was sure of his conclusion based on Adaar’s manner.

The Inquisitor snorted. “Of course you’re not. You’re jumpier than a fennec fox but after however long it was being held captive the way you were, I’m not surprised. And it’s obvious that your nerves come from fearing being put back in that situation, not because you’re an evil Tevinter Magister trying to corrupt the Inquisition’s Commander.”

Now it was Dorian’s turn to snort. “I’m not even a Magister. I’m only an Altus.”

“I’m going to pretend I know what that is,” Adaar said with a laugh. “Now, you’re a shapeshifter, right? Leliana said she’s seen the ability before.”

Dorian hesitated and wished that Cullen was still in the room. Not because he particularly needed a champion, as much as he enjoyed having one, but because he felt safe with the man and Cullen was so honest and open that he didn’t feel so caught off guard as he did with the others.

“Ah, no,” he said hesitantly. “As I told Cullen last night, I’m not a shapeshifter, I’m a… a werecreature. It was a… side effect of a blood magic ritual my father attempted to use on me.”

Adaar was silent and when Dorian looked at him, he saw the same kind of simmering anger he’d seen in Cullen the night before and once again he was comfortable that the anger was not directed at him.

“I take it that’s why you left Tevinter?” Adaar said, swallowing down that anger.

Dorian nodded. “I’m not sure how that man from the circus found out about me. I thought I was being careful but someone must have seen me change at some point. He certainly knew enough to take precautions.”

Adaar nodded. “Solas told me about the shackles he was using. Prick. Pity Cullen didn’t put _him_ in the shackles in return.”

“I would have liked that,” Dorian said with a wan smile.

Adaar stood now and came over to place his hands on Dorian’s shoulders. The Vashoth somehow managed to make it a wonderfully comforting gesture, like he was looming over Dorian protectively instead of being intimidating.

“Dorian, I’m more than happy to accept you into the Inquisition and if anyone… and I mean _anyone_ , from within the Inquisition or without… gives you grief, you come straight to me.” Adaar snorted. “If they’re going to accept a Vashoth warrior as their Inquisitor, they can damn well accept the Tevinter mage as well. I’m far stranger than you are.”

Dorian swallowed hard. “I, uh… thank you.”

Adaar grinned and patted him on the shoulder. “I suppose I’d better let Cullen back in before he has an aneurysm out there. You’ve certainly got him captivated. I never knew it would take a pretty male mage to do that. He’s been fairly impervious to any sort of blandishments thus far.” He paused and sobered. “Be kind to him, Dorian. He’s had a rough time and he didn’t deal with it very well. I’m all for remorse and regret and acknowledging one’s past as a learning experience but Cullen tends to overdo the self-flagellation part. Not _literally_ but certainly metaphorically.”

“Very cryptic,” Dorian said dryly.

Adaar laughed. “It was, wasn’t it? It’s his story to tell. I just want you to give him a chance.”

“He rescued me and asked for nothing in return,” Dorian said simply. “I owe him a great deal more than a single solitary chance.” He was suddenly on the receiving end of a piercing look from Adaar and he shifted uncomfortably under it. “What?” 

“He’s asked for nothing?”

“No.”

“Then this morning?”

Dorian frowned. Cullen didn’t seem like the sort to discuss what had happened between them. “What about this morning?”

Adaar snorted and looked amused. “I may look like an ox but I don’t think like one, Dorian. I’m pretty good at telling when someone’s just had some really good sex and Cullen had definitely had some good sex this morning. Since you were the only one in his bed when he kicked us out, I presumed it was with you.”

Dorian surprised himself by actually blushing a little. He’d forgotten that the Inquisitor and the others had been in the room when he’d surfaced from sleep. “Ah, yes… well…”

Adaar snorted again. “I know I kind of encouraged him but I would like to know that you were… willing and not pressured.”

Dorian bit back the flippant response that was on the tip of his tongue and nodded. “I was willing and I wasn’t pressured. I wanted it. I wanted _him_. And I want to see where it goes now.”

Adaar looked satisfied. “Cullen doesn’t strike me as the love them and leave them type. You might just have him forever.”

Dorian looked startled then he smiled. He wasn’t sure he believed Adaar but he did like the idea. Certainly he wanted Cullen for as long as the man would have him. He’d take whatever he could get.

“I can’t say I dislike the idea,” was all he would say.

Adaar patted him on the shoulder cheerfully then walked over and opened the door. “Well? Come back in, Cullen. I haven’t harmed your man.”

Cullen’s first strides into the room were determined and jarring but they slowed and evened out when he saw Dorian standing there. He gave a small smile and Dorian could read the look in his eyes easily.

“I am entirely unscathed and an official member of the Inquisition.”

Cullen gave a sigh of relief and Adaar snorted and clapped him on the shoulder.

“I think I should feel offended by your lack of faith in me,” he said with a grin that gave the lie to his words.

Cullen however looked rather abashed. “I… forgive me, Inquisitor…”

Adaar waved a hand. “Cullen, I was joking.” He looked a little wistful. “I kind of wish I had someone who’d fuss over me like that, even if I don’t really need it.”

Cullen came to a halt and this time his sheepish look was directed at Dorian as he got the implied message loud and clear. The mage laughed and closed the gap between them. He hesitated for the barest moment then slid one arm around Cullen’s waist. His heart was pounding at the public display which would have been immediately scorned and sneered at if he were at home but when the only response from Cullen was to smile softly and wrap an arm around his shoulders in return and Adaar just grinned at them, he relaxed again.

“Adorable,” the Inquisitor said in a teasing manner.

Dorian sniffed. “I would be far more adorable if I was dressed in more suitable clothes.”

“Those are my clothes and they are perfectly suitable,” Cullen said, though it was plain he was amused more than anything else.

“They are perfectly suited to a soldier,” Dorian replied. “Which I am not.”

“Speak to Josephine,” Adaar said then he rolled his eyes and got a quite crafty expression on his face. “Actually, let’s go introduce you around to everyone so they know you’re one of us now.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea, Inquisitor,” Cullen said.

Adaar laughed and clapped Cullen on the shoulder before leading the way out the door. As he followed them, Dorian felt that he might just have found a place to call home.


	26. Broken - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was written for redxluna over on tumblr for the prompt: Saying I love you - Broken, as you clutch the sleeve of my jacket and beg me not to leave
> 
> So... as you might imagine, this has angst but it also has a happy ending.

“Dorian. Please… stay.” 

Cullen’s voice was cracked and shaking and broken. No doubt his face would echo his voice but Dorian stared only at the hand clutching at his wrist.

“Does the fact that I love you mean nothing?”

Dorian shook himself free of Cullen’s grasp. “Love is an illusion, Commander. It doesn’t exist.”

He walked out the door and pretended he didn’t hear the despairing cry coming from the office or the sound of something hitting the door he’d just exited. He raised his chin and walked back to his little niche in the library where he picked up a book, sat down and pretended to read. He wasn’t seeing a single word on the page but that didn’t matter. It was done and with any luck, it would be enough. It would certainly be around Skyhold by the end of the day and he was likely to be even more hated than he was before. But that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that Cullen’s reputation and position was safe. 

He stayed where he was for the rest of the day, burying himself in the book and ignoring everyone who walked past. Gradually the low noise in the library ebbed into nothing as one by one everyone else left. He heard the sounds of Solas leaving the room below and then Leliana passed by. He heard her footsteps pause outside his niche but he steadfastly did not raise his head. This was Leliana. The fact that he’d heard her at all meant she’d wanted him to, which meant she knew what had happened. He hoped that if she intended to kill him, she’d do it quickly.

But even she passed on when he refused to look up and then it was silent. Only then did he lower the book and let it fall to the floor. He stared at the bookshelf with unseeing eyes for a moment then he buried his face in his hands. If there were tears in his eyes, then there was no one else to see them.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. They were heavy and steady and he knew who it was even before the Inquisitor spoke.

“You know, Dorian, for a smart man, sometimes you can be really, really dumb.”

Dorian looked up into the slightly exasperated face of Kaaras Adaar. There was also sympathy on the face of the Vashoth warrior and that confused Dorian. Kaaras got along well with Cullen. They were both warriors who favoured sword and shield after all. Before he’d found out about Cullen’s struggle with withdrawal, Kaaras had been tempted by Ser’s offer of training but once he knew what it meant, he’d chosen another path, unable to add to Cullen’s worries. All in all, Dorian had been expecting to be censured at the very least by the Inquisitor.

“What?” he said, looking a little startled when the word came out hoarse and shattered.

“We already knew about the threats,” Kaaras said patiently. “Did you really think that between Leliana and Bull we wouldn’t know?”

Dorian swallowed. “You… you knew? Did… did Cullen…?

“Did Cullen know? Yes,” Kaaras replied. He sighed. “I told him to tell you. I told him you’d find out and probably do something stupid but he wanted to protect you. You know how much he hates it when people treat you badly.”

Dorian managed a faint smile. He had his very own knight in shining armour and he loved it. Then his face fell and he ran a shaking hand down his face. “I… he…”

“Go to him, Dorian,” Kaaras said firmly. “Go and take back whatever stupid things you said to him and then make him tell you what’s going on. I don’t want to see either of you until you’ve talked, sorted things out, kissed and had at least two rounds of sex.”

Dorian blinked and actually flushed a little at that. He got to his feet and was surprised to find he was so shaky. “You’ve, ah… been hanging around Bull too much.”

Kaaras snorted. “Dorian. _Go_.”

“Right. Yes.” 

Dorian gave the Inquisitor a nod then made his way to Cullen’s office. He hesitated outside the door then carefully opened it and stepped inside. The office was lit by candlelight but it wasn’t enough to disguise the drawn, unhappy look on Cullen’s face as he raised his head. Cullen’s eyes widened and he stood hesitantly, unsure of what he should do. He had discarded his furred mantle and armour and looked strangely smaller as a result.

“Dorian,” he whispered then he licked his lips, wariness and pain warring with hope in his eyes.

Dorian swallowed. “Apparently I am still capable of being an enormous ass.” His voice was shaking but he continued nonetheless. “But I maintain that you are as well since you didn’t tell me you already knew about the threats and thus I was forced to be an ass. I was…” He drew in a breath. “ _Trying_ to protect you.”

Cullen made a pained noise and came round the desk. He approached Dorian in much the way he might approach a skittish animal then he reached out and oh-so-carefully drew Dorian to him. For his part, Dorian went willingly, clutching Cullen tightly and burying his face in the man’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” Cullen croaked. “I should have told you but I…” He gave a mirthless laugh. “I was trying to protect _you_.”

Dorian drew back and cradled Cullen’s face in his hands. “It appears we may both be idiots.”

Cullen smiled wanly and then a pleading look grew on his face. “Dorian… _please_.”

Dorian knew what he was asking and he drew Cullen’s face close. “I love you,” he whispered before pressing his lips against the other man’s 

Cullen groaned and wrapped his arms around Dorian in a crushing grip. Dorian didn’t care though since he was being kissed in a way he never had before. It was relief and love and delight and so, so wonderful.

When the flurry of emotion wound down to something calmer, Dorian cupped Cullen’s cheek, his thumb wiping away the wetness that stained his cheeks.

“Now, Amatus, I have orders from the Inquisitor,” he said, his voice still a bit wobbly but now full of all that he felt for the other man. “Though we’ve got them a bit out of order. We’ve already kissed but we just have to talk and sort things out then we’re under orders to have a great deal of sex.”

Cullen chuckled and blushed. “Well,” he said, sounding a bit choked still. “If we’re under orders…”


	27. Younger Than Springtime - Male Mage Lavellan/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was written for littlexabyss over on tumblr for the prompt: Saying I love you - When we lay together in the fresh spring grass.
> 
> This is fluffy fluff and is set at some nebulous point a few years post-Trespasser. It's Pavellan, featuring my Joshel Lavellan, who has another fic written about him here in this compilation.
> 
> Also, if any of my Ao3 readers would like to prompt me, the list is [here](http://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/post/141858033653/the-way-you-said-i-love-you) and you can drop a line in my askbox on tumblr, which is [here](http://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/ask). (I also have a list of prompt posts [here](http://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/post/134714801168/list-of-prompt-posts-mostly-for-my-own-reference) if none of the I love you ones grab you. And I'll write about any pairing in this bunch of allsorts. I can't guarantee how quickly I'll get it done but I will try my best.)

Joshel put his hands on his hips and then smiled to himself. It was ridiculous to be happy that he could do something as simple as put his hands on his hips but the months he’d spent without a hand before Dagna had completed his prosthetic had given him a new perspective on the small things. Like putting his hands on his hips and not feeling lopsided, being able to cast spells without feeling like he was out of sync with himself or… days like today. Early spring days when the weather was just turning warm and the grass was green and the flowers blooming and the birds were singing. 

He turned and looked back at the small camp he and his companions had made and smiled again. The meeting with his former advisors and the rest of those who were involved in their new little group had gone well. Their new agents had been making excellent progress in discovering what Solas was up to and it had been good to catch up with a few people… and to allow Dorian to catch up with his friends in the former Inquisition.

He looked at his lover and chuckled. There had been much made of Dorian’s new hairstyle. They hadn’t seen him in over a year and in that time Dorian had allowed most his hair to grow out a bit while increasing the shaved sides. Joshel rather liked it. It made Dorian look a bit wilder. ‘A bit more Dalish’ he said to tease his lover but then Dorian had surprised him by blushing and saying he’d done it for that very reason. Joshel had been _very_ appreciative.

Right now though, Dorian was sitting hunched over next to the campfire, speaking into one of his crystals, no doubt updating Maevaris on what had happened at the meeting. Joshel watched him for a moment then made a decision. He strode over to his lover and plucked the crystal out of his hand, ignoring his indignant squawk.

“Maevaris? Would you mind continuing this at a later time?”

Maevaris’ low rich chuckle came through loud and clear. “Are you going to take Dorian and make him relax?”

“That is the plan.”

“Then by all means, my dear. He’s been working too hard of late.”

The crystal went dark and Joshel put it on top of the pile of papers next to Dorian. His lover was looking up at him with exasperation.

“Joshel…”

Joshel leaned over and placed his hand over Dorian’s mouth. “Hush.” He then removed it and held it out. “And come with me.”

Dorian grumbled and groused but he took Joshel’s hand and got up. Joshel didn’t let his hand go once he was on his feet and he grinned when Dorian blushed and looked rather bashful. He took the opportunity provided and dragged his lover towards the forest. Once they started weaving their way through the trees, it didn’t take long for Dorian to start complaining.

“Amatus, why am I being dragged through the mud? I’m hardly dressed for it.”

Joshel glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow at his travelling robes, robes that were not dissimilar to the ones he’d worn while a part of the Inquisition. He then looked pointedly down at the grass and leaves under their feet.

Dorian sighed. “I am speaking figuratively.”

“It’s not far, vhenan,” Joshel said.

Dorian sighed heavily and affected a very put-upon expression. Then the trees started to thin out and they walked out into a sunlit clearing. The grass was thick and here and there were patches of flowers. Joshel drew in a deep breath, taking in the familiar scents of spring in the forest, then he dragged Dorian over to the centre of the clearing. He let go of his hand and threw himself to the ground, wriggling his shoulders to get comfortable then looking up at Dorian.

“Join me?” 

He raised his eyebrows imploringly and gave his lover his best puppy eyes. Dorian opened his mouth to object then he sighed and lowered himself to the ground next to Joshel.

“Ugh. Why do you like lolling about in the mud and sticks so much, Amatus?”

“Because I’m a barbaric Dalish elf,” Joshel replied dryly. “An untamed savage.”

Dorian snorted with amusement. He’d been beside himself about the risk of allowing Joshel to come to Tevinter, worried about how he’d be treated and afraid that Joshel would come to hate him for it. But instead the former Inquisitor had divided and conquered large swathes of the Magisterium. Oh, the Magisters had seen him as a savage at first and been prepared to treat him accordingly but then Joshel had stunned them with several sophisticated discussions on politics and magic and he’d had the Magisterium slightly off-balance ever since. It was a delight to watch.

“You’re a savage with excellent taste in wine,” Dorian observed.

Joshel laughed then he caught Dorian’s hand again. “I like your priorities.” He rolled onto his side and propped himself up with one hand. “Now, _relax_ , vhenan. No responsibilities, no duties, no Magisterium, no Solas. Just us and the spring sunshine and the grass.”

Dorian smiled and caressed Joshel’s cheek. “I’m not terribly good at relaxing.”

“I noticed,” Joshel said dryly. He paused and just looked at his lover. Dorian’s cream silk robes contrasted wonderfully with the green grass and his hair was spread out, losing its careful style. He felt his heart constrict and he leaned in and kissed Dorian. “I love you, ma vhenan.”

He was rewarded with one of Dorian’s sweet, open, honest smiles. “What brought that on?”

Joshel chuckled. “I just… was reminded yet again.”

Dorian actually blushed at that and pulled the elf in for another kiss. “I love you too, Amatus.”

Joshel grinned and shifted so that he was straddling Dorian’s hips. “Tell me, vhenan, have you ever made love in a clearing in the forest?”

Dorian’s hands went to his lover’s hips and he licked his lips. “I can’t say that I have. It sounds barbaric.”

Joshel leaned in and when their lips were barely touching, he breathed, “Aren’t you lucky I’m a barbarian?”

“Very,” Dorian said. He closed the gap between them and then there was no more talking.


	28. Let Me Hear You - Male Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Anonymous came over to my tumblr and left me this: 15. Loud so everyone can hear with male lavellan and Cullen? I think Cullen is terrible at talking about how he feels.
> 
> So, here we go. There really isn't much description to this. It's rated E and it's pretty much PWP. :D I hope you like it, Nonny.
> 
> As I mentioned in the previous chapter, if you would like to prompt me, the 'I love you' list is [here](http://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/post/141858033653/the-way-you-said-i-love-you) and you can drop a line in my askbox on tumblr, which is [here](http://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/ask). (I also have a list of prompt posts [here](http://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/post/134714801168/list-of-prompt-posts-mostly-for-my-own-reference) if none of the I love you ones grab you. And I'll write about any pairing in this bunch of allsorts. I can't guarantee how quickly I'll get it done - especially if you ask for a pairing I haven't written before - but I will try my best.)

Madame Vivienne was going to kill him. It was a thought that might have made Mahanon snicker if he hadn’t had the sight he did in front of him. Though he would dare even the infamous Iron Lady to not appreciate the vision of a naked Cullen Rutherford stretched out on her chaise, his chest heaving and his face red with only arousal. Given how bashful Cullen could be at times when it came to love and sex, the latter was something of an achievement. He was no longer sure that Cullen was aware of where they were or if he was, it was lost in the haze of pleasure Mahanon had brought him and couldn’t force its way past to make Cullen demur and deny and suggest they move somewhere more private.

He’d still been quiet though and Mahanon was determined to break the habit born of living in shared accommodation for so many years. He wanted to make Cullen moan, to scream, to shout his pleasure and love so that everyone lingering below could hear it.

He brushed a hand over one of Cullen’s nipples and smiled when the man jerked and gasped, his hands clenching tightly around the pillow behind his head. He knew Cullen had been held prisoner in the past so he would never dare to physically restrain him but when he asked Cullen to place his hands over his head and keep them there, the trust and love he saw in the man’s eyes when he nodded his agreement was staggering.

“Let me hear you, ma vhenan,” he said as he reached out and tweaked the other nipple.

Cullen moaned softly but even that made his blush intensify, adding embarrassment to the arousal already staining his cheeks, and Mahanon could see his lover trying to drag his mind out of the pleasure he was feeling.

“Don’t think, vhenan,” Mahanon murmured. “Just feel. Let me give you this. You can let go and just feel.”

Cullen shuddered under his touch as he ran his hand down the man’s chest to his stomach and then wrapped it around his straining erection. He ran his thumb over the tip to smear the precome gathered there and Cullen yelped and bucked his hips upwards.

“Ma… Mahanon… please,” Cullen gasped, louder but not loud enough for Mahanon’s satisfaction. “I need…”

“What do you need, vhenan?”

Cullen’s eyes fluttered open. They were dark with arousal and lust and the love shining in them made Mahanon shiver.

“You.”

Mahanon smiled and stood up. He waited until Cullen was watching him then he slowly pulled off his clothes. Once he was naked, he paused for a moment to retrieve the vial of oil he’d slipped into his pocket and then he walked over to the chaise. Cullen stared at him, his heated gaze running down Mahanon’s chest until it reached his erection, jutting out proudly from his hips, then the man licked his lips.

Mahanon climbed onto the chaise and straddled Cullen’s thighs. He held himself upright and uncorked the bottle of oil. He slicked his fingers then reached behind and slowly began to prepare himself. Cullen’s hands tightened again on the cushion behind his head and Mahanon smiled.

“If you let me hear you, ma vhenan, I will let you touch me.”

Cullen shuddered then he groaned, louder this time, more heartfelt. “Mahanon, love… I don’t….”

“Don’t hold yourself back,” Mahanon said through gritted teeth as he continued to stretch his hole. “ _Let me hear you_.”

He pulled his fingers free and poured the remaining oil into his hand. He quickly slicked Cullen’s erection then raised himself up and impaled himself on that thick cock in one quick downward thrust.

Cullen threw his head back and the cry he made could undoubtedly be heard in the hall below. Mahanon smiled as he braced his hands on his lover’s chest.

“Touch me, Cullen. Touch me and let me hear you.”

Cullen’s hands came down and grabbed at his hips as he raised himself again and thrust down hard. Cullen used his grasp to hold Mahanon steady as he jerked his hips up to meet the elf’s downward movement and with each thrust, Cullen let his pleasure be heard in his moans and grunts and curses.

Finally, Cullen’s hands tightened on his hips. “Mahanon… I’m close.”

Mahanon leaned back and took hold of his cock, stroking it quickly. “Tell me, vhenan. _Please_.”

“I love you,” Cullen groaned as he thrust up harder.

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again,” Mahanon said, the word becoming lost in his moan as he came, striping Cullen’s chest with his come.

Cullen’s hands tightened enough to leave bruises as he pulled Mahanon’s hips tight against his own and came with a wild cry of, “I love you.”

Mahanon slumped down on top of Cullen as they both gasped for breath and he managed a smile when his lover wrapped his arms around him. It was several minutes later when Cullen pressed a kiss to his hair.

“Everyone heard that, didn’t they?”

There was a mix of emotions in Cullen’s voice, not all of them entirely positive, and Mahanon propped himself up enough to look his lover in the eye.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “They heard that. They know that you are mine and I am yours and they _may not have you_.”

Cullen looked very startled at the fervency in Mahanon’s tone and he frowned. “Mahanon, I… I don’t understand.”

The elf chuckled. “I am so glad that you are oblivious to all those who look at you with such desire, Cullen, else I would surely go mad.”

Cullen looked confused. “I… I don’t want them. I only…” He blushed. “I only want you.”

Mahanon leaned down and kissed him. “And I am glad for that. But I wanted them to hear. To know that _I_ am the one who brings you such pleasure, that I am the one whom you love and who loves you. No one else.”

Cullen stared at him for a moment longer then he relaxed and smiled wryly. “I won’t be able to look anyone in the face for _days_ but if that was what you wanted, what you _needed_ then I… I don’t mind.” He looked a little plaintive. “Just… not all the time please?”

Mahanon chuckled and lowered himself back down into Cullen’s embrace. Cullen shifted him to a more comfortable position and Mahanon gave a sigh of loss when his lover’s softened cock slipped from his arse.

“No, not all the time. Perhaps not ever again,” he murmured. “But I needed that today.”

Cullen ran a hand down his back soothingly and they drifted for a moment. Mahanon then abruptly snorted with amusement.

“What is it, love?” Cullen said before he yawned.

“Just thinking of Vivienne’s face when she realises we’ve despoiled her chaise.” Mahanon’s grin was clearly audible in his voice.

Cullen was silent for a moment then he laughed helplessly. “Maker’s _breath_. You’ll be the death of me one of these days, love. Quite likely when Madame de Fer finds out about this.”


	29. Reminder - Male Warrior Trevelyan/Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I forgot to post this here. And look! Threesome! :D
> 
> After a long day, Peregrine Trevelyan thinks about how he got here and reminds Cullen of his importance in his life.

Peregrine walked into his rooms at the top of the tower and kept going until he could collapse face first on the bed with a heartfelt groan. He heard the chuckles from the two men in the room and groaned again, this time pitifully, in response.

“Long day, Amatus?” Dorian asked, his voice full of mirth.

“Josephine is relentless,” Peregrine replied, his voice partially muffled. “Do we really need to go to Halamshiral?”

Cullen laughed. “That’s what I keep asking.”

Peregrine flopped over then forced himself to sit up and look at the others. As always, he felt a lump grow in his throat at the knowledge that he had everything he wanted. After Cullen had rebuffed his flirting in Haven, he’d resigned himself to being alone or maybe “riding the Bull”, as the Qunari put it. Not seriously but just for companionship and the stress relief a quick fuck afforded. Then had come Dorian and he’d been lost. But in the back of his mind and his heart had still been those feelings for Cullen.

Things had come to a rather precipitous head one evening when he’d been kissing Dorian and in the middle of it, he’d said Cullen’s name. He’d been mortified but Dorian had surprised him by chuckling and saying it was alright and that he rather admired the stoic Commander as well. Peregrine hadn’t really believed him. Well, he’d believed that Dorian admired Cullen. Who wouldn’t really? But he hadn’t believed that Dorian was fine with it. This had been after the debacle in Redcliffe with Dorian’s father and he’d realised how fragile Dorian’s self-esteem was. And he’d seen further evidence in the days that followed in Dorian’s behaviour and hadn’t known how to repair the damage he’d done.

So he’d been unsurprised that a visit to the Commander had deteriorated into an argument over Peregrine’s decision to undertake Templar training. He supposed he’d been spoiling for a fight and it was galling to have that concern directed at him by Cullen when that was all he had from the man, then he’d gotten angry at himself for wanting more when he already had so much with Dorian and… well, poor Cullen had ended up on the receiving end of his annoying redhead’s temper.

Who knows how it all might have ended if Josephine and Leliana hadn’t decided to meddle. They hadn’t _quite_ locked them in a room and told them they couldn’t come out until they’d sorted out whatever was going on with the three of them but they had organised a dinner in the Inquisitor’s rooms and suggested – very firmly – that they sort things out for the good of the Inquisition.

The dinner had been awkward and very, very silent. Awkward silence. Peregrine’s favourite. He was used to it from his parents but he’d also gotten used to doing _without_ it since he’d inadvertently ended up as Herald. He could only smile as he thought about how he’d ended the impasse.

_“Alright, I hate awkward silences,” he’d said, shoving his chair back then catching in before it fell. He stalked away and started pacing. “So to hell it with it. Dorian, I don’t care if you’re not ready to hear this but I fucking well adore you and I’m rapidly falling in love with you. And Cullen, I’ve wanted you since I first laid eyes on you, fighting my way to the bloody Breach, and I want you and It’d probably be more if you’d let it happen. So, yeah, I want both of you and I know I’ve buggered it up with both you so I’m going to take that bottle of wine and go out on the balcony and drown my sorrows so, you know, just close the door when you leave. I'll… find a way to make it all right with Josephine and Leliana tomorrow when I get rid of my hangover.”_

_So he’d grabbed the newly opened bottle of wine on the table and stomped out to the balcony and sat down and leaned against the wall. As he’d stared out over what could be seen of the view at this time of night and started very industriously on the wine, he’d heard a low voiced discussion in the room. Then the next thing he knew, Dorian and Cullen were standing next to him. Dorian plucked the bottle of wine out of his hand and took a swig before handing it to Cullen. On his part, Cullen had looked at it a little awkwardly then put it down on the ground._

_For a moment, they’d all looked at each other in silence then Cullen had cleared his throat._

_“We… uh… we’d like to try.”_

Four of the most beautiful words he’d ever heard in his life and it had left him here. He blinked and saw that Dorian and Cullen were watching him with bemusement. Dorian was lounging on the couch with a book while Cullen had appropriated Peregrine’s desk to do some work.

“That’s a very indulgent smile, Amatus.”

Peregrine chuckled. “I was just thinking about the night I threw every ounce of caution and common sense I ever possessed to the wind and ended up with everything I ever wanted.”

Dorian chuckled while Cullen blushed.

“If I’m part of everything you ever wanted then you have very low standards,” Cullen said wryly.

“Cullen, love?” Peregrine said, getting to his feet so that he could wander over and drape himself over Cullen’s thankfully non-armour-clad shoulders.

“Yes, dear,” Cullen replied in dry tones.

“Shush and accept that you are most definitely part of my wildest dreams.”

Cullen smiled but it had an edge of sadness that was very familiar. Peregrine pressed a kiss to his cheek and took the pen out of his hand.

“I promise you, Cullen, that as soon as all this mess is over I’ll stop taking lyrium and fulfil _your_ wildest dreams.”

Cullen turned and cradled Peregrine’s face. “Peregrine…”

“You’re proof positive that it can be done without dying or going mad, love.”

He stopped any further argument by leaning in and kissing the Commander. Cullen resisted for a moment then he groaned and deepened the kiss, his hands clutching at Peregrine’s sides.

“It rather looks like you’re having more fun than I am.”

They broke apart to find Dorian watching them intently.

Peregrine grinned. “You could join us. After all, I think Cullen needs a reminder of just how important he is to us.”

Dorian stood and sauntered over. “I think I could manage both of those things, Amati.”


	30. Man of Action - Male Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous over on tumblr prompted me with "Oooh, Cullen and M!Lavellan where Cullen is flustered and Lavellan is all "Okay, I'll be direct" and just climbs into Cullen's lap so he can stop sputtering and freaking kiss him already". And here it is. 
> 
> It is kind of fun writing flustered and babbling Cullen. Also Solas is a pinnacle of patience with Mahanon. Also this could feasibly be considered a prequel to [Let Me Hear You](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/14682532).
> 
> As always, if you want to give me a prompt, you can drop it into my [askbox on tumblr](http://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/ask). Any pairing in this bunch of fics is fair game and if you'd like to give me a prompt related to one of the fics or pairing in that fic, by all means, go ahead.

Cullen paced back and forth across his office, his face fixed in a frustrated scowl. He was peripherally aware that no one had come in since he’d growled at three successive scouts and he suspected that the word had gone out to _leave the Commander alone_ unless it was urgent. He’d have growled about _that_ except he was far too flustered to even bother.

Maker, he was such an idiot and part of him was tempted to blame the Inquisitor but that would be unfair. It wasn’t Mahanon’s fault that he was such a mess. He knew he’d hurt the man when he’d rejected him back in Haven. Maker knows it wasn’t out of lack of interest but he’d been… in a poor state back then due to the withdrawal and he hadn’t wanted to add to Mahanon’s burden by lumping an afflicted lover on him. The elf had had enough on his plate as it was with his unwanted and poorly fitting title of Herald of Andraste.

So he’d rejected Mahanon and resigned himself to watching the elf move on and find someone else. Except… he didn’t. He didn’t ask for anything more than Cullen was willing to give but he seemed to be… waiting. It had been a little unnerving since until recently he honestly wasn’t sure he could offer anything _other_ than his friendship but Cullen had enough on his plate, especially after they moved to Skyhold, that he’d rarely had time to think about it.

Right up until he’d overheard the conversation between Solas and Mahanon a few days ago. It was entirely accidental. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. The day had been warm and balmy and Solas had propped open the door leading to the battlements to allow the breeze in. Cullen had an armful of reports he’d been planning on dropping off with Josephine and as he’d walked through the open door, he’d heard his name mentioned.

“You don’t _really_ want to hear about my mooning over Cullen, do you, hahren?” Mahanon had said dryly.

Solas had sounded amused when he replied. “If it will help you to organise your thoughts, da’len, I will listen.”

“Ugh.” There was a thumping sound as though Mahanon had banged something against the table. “I know I’m being stupid, that it’s futile to expect him to… to change his mind but I can’t help it.”

“You feel that deeply for him?”

“I do.” Mahanon had sighed. “I tried to move on. I mean, it’s not the first time I’ve been rejected. I’m a big boy. I can take it. But… I don’t know. Maybe it’s wishful thinking on my part but I’ve always felt that he didn’t entirely mean it.”

“In what way?” There had been an air of dispassion in Solas’ voice, as though he wasn’t overly interested in the reply but was willing to ask the question to allow Mahanon to sort out his thoughts.

Mahanon had been silent for a time. “Sort of like he didn’t mean ‘no, not ever’ but more ‘no, not now’.” The elf’s voice had dropped lower when he continued. “He did have a lot… well, nevermind. I can’t really talk about it.”

Solas’ reply had almost made him drop the papers.

“You mean his withdrawal from lyrium?”

Mahanon had been equally as surprised. “Fenedhis! How did you know?”

“I have seen similar symptoms as the ones he’s displayed since I joined the Inquisition in Templars in the Fade,” Solas had replied with a calmness that had been maddening. “Though I must say, he has dealt with them far better than the Templars in those memories. His strength of mind and will is admirable.”

“Don’t say anything, will you?” Mahanon had pleaded. “He doesn’t really want people to know.”

“I shall not, da’len. Though I believe it would do him good to know of that strength. He strangely seems to lack that knowledge.”

The knowing amusement in Solas’ voice had made Cullen’s eyebrows go up and he was all but certain that the elven mage had known he was standing there, listening to every word. He’d withdrawn at that point, making his way back to his office. He’d carefully placed the reports on his desk and had sat down and cradled his head in his hands.

Mahanon had been right, of course. It had taken him a while to admit it to himself but he _had_ meant ‘not now’. He just… hadn’t said that. He’d been so surprised to have Mahanon’s interest in him confirmed when he’d been sure he was fooling himself that he’d bungled that conversation. The question he’d now had to find an answer for was – did he feel any different now? Had ‘no, not now’ become ‘yes, now’?

Finding the answer to that question had taken him the better part of the rest of that day and many amused comments from Leliana and Josephine about his preoccupation at the War Table. He’d felt Mahanon’s concerned gaze on him but the Inquisitor had left him alone and later that evening he’d come to the conclusion that ‘no, not now’ had indeed become ‘yes, now’.

Which was all fine in theory but actually finding a way to _tell_ Mahanon that had become increasingly frustrating, mostly because every time he tried, he bungled the conversation. His last attempt this morning had ended in utter disaster and no small amount of embarrassment and he’d left Mahanon looking confused and worried as he’d stomped back to his office and proceeded to apparently put the fear of the Maker into everyone who came his way.

He came to a halt and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he forced himself to let his bad mood slough away. He collapsed into his largely unused chair and huffed out another sigh. Maybe he should ask… 

He shuddered and pushed that thought away. There really wasn’t _anyone_ here whom he felt he could ask. Cassandra would surely help if he went to her but her response would either be blunt or… possibly overly romantic. Not that Cullen didn’t appreciate romance but not right now. Romance could come later… _after_ he’d told Mahanon how he felt.

Dorian would undoubtedly help but that would mean navigating the sea of amused comments that would surely come his way and after the last few days, his temper was short enough that he knew he couldn’t handle that. He counted Dorian as a friend but he knew the mage had as little experience with that as he did and his ill-tempered growling might well drive an unwanted wedge between them that would take Cullen days to mend.

Leliana… well, he just wasn’t willing to go there. Josephine would organise things to the beyond and that wasn’t what he wanted either. And the rest were equally as unsuitable for any number of reasons. No, he was going to have to sort this out himself.

Just as he was thinking that, the door to his office opened and he looked up to find Mahanon staring at him a little hesitantly. It seemed his opportunity had arrived.

“May I come in, Cullen?” Mahanon asked quietly.

“Uh, yes, of course,” Cullen replied. 

He started to rise but Mahanon waved him down again and then he began to pace, just as Cullen had been doing just before. Except Mahanon looked nervous and very much like he was preparing for battle.

Cullen leaned forward. “Inquisitor?”

“Can you not call me that right now?” Mahanon asked plaintively.

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “I… of course. Uh, Mahanon.”

Mahanon shot him a look he couldn’t quite decipher and continued pacing. Finally he seemed to come to a decision and he came to a halt in front of Cullen.

“You were trying to say something to me this morning. What was it?”

Cullen blushed and licked his lips. “I, uh, yes. I was. Um. Well, you see… in Haven , you, uh… and I, uh… well…” He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “What I’m trying to say is…”

He didn’t get a chance to finish. He very suddenly had a lap full of smiling elf and he almost instinctively put his hands on Mahanon’s hips to steady him.

“Mah… Mahanon?” he said in what he’d later deny was almost a squeak.

“I think I know what you’ve been trying to tell me for the past couple of days,” Mahanon said, still smiling though Cullen could see the apprehension and doubt lurking in his eyes. “At least I hope I do. And, on that note, you’re really bad with words when they don’t have anything to do with Inquisition business. So I’m going to be direct. Just kiss me, will you?”

Cullen gaped at him for a moment then he chuckled and just when Mahanon was starting to look worried, he leaned forward and kissed him. The kiss started out gentle and soft but quickly became heated as they wrapped their arms around each other. Finally it gentled again and they separated just far enough to rest their foreheads together.

“You’re definitely a man of action,” Mahanon teased. “And we all know that actions speak louder than words.”


	31. Let's Dance - Pre-Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My prompt this time was: Can we get something a bit angsty for our boys to hash out? Would love to see Dorian be the more angsty of the two as that's usually Cullen's role. Author's choice on topic of angst. 
> 
> My response was: Hmm, maybe not as angsty as it could have been but I was aiming for Cullrian. This is sort of pre-Cullrian. I may need to write a sequel.
> 
> As always, if you want to give me a prompt, you can drop it into my [askbox on tumblr](http://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/ask). Any pairing in this bunch of fics is fair game and if you'd like to give me a prompt related to one of the fics or pairing in that fic, by all means, go ahead.

Dorian stepped through the door that lead to the main hall from the library and came to a sudden halt at the sight that greeted him. A large section of the hall had been cleared and there appeared to be dancing lessons going on under the supervision of Josephine and Vivienne. That wasn’t what had caught Dorian’s eye and caused the lump to grow in his throat. That had been caused by the couple dancing in the middle of the group.

Cullen and Evelyn looked good together as they walked through the steps of one of the Orlesian court dances. The Inquisitor’s dark skin and hair contrasting very prettily with Cullen’s pale complexion and blond hair. They were both smiling as they maintained the eye contact the dance demanded and even laughing occasionally when they required eye contact meant they tripped over their own or each other’s feet. Cullen’s face was tinged a very fetching shade of pink and Dorian was sure the Inquisitor would be much the same if her complexion was able to show it as clearly as Cullen’s.

Despair and jealously surged through Dorian and he swallowed hard. He knew he shouldn’t have allowed the feelings caused by every shy smile he got from Cullen over their chess games and every friendly pat on the shoulder, every encouraging word, every blush and stammering reply he drew from the man, to grow to the extent they had. He’d learned long ago to nip those sorts of feelings in the bud and he should have done the same here. But he hadn’t and now he was reaping the awful reward for that foolishness as he watched Cullen and Evelyn at their bashful courtship game.

He was going to have to find a way to excise those feelings and he’d have to do it quickly before they rotted and festered into something ugly and mean. Evelyn was his friend and so was Cullen and neither deserved the kind of bile and vitriol he knew he could produce when he wanted to. It wasn’t as if he’d ever had any kind of claim on Cullen. In fact, he always been mostly convinced the man had no interest in men so this… this was hardly a surprise. He had no one to blame for his disappointment and sorrow but himself.

He gave a start when he realised there was someone standing next to him and he glanced over to find Blackwall there. He was watching Cullen and Evelyn and from his expression, he was feeling much the same as Dorian was, thought for different reasons… and for a different person. Dorian might have mocked Blackwall for that except that would be a case of the pot very definitely calling the kettle black.

Just then, Cullen and Evelyn stepped apart, each laughing and apologising to the other for whatever had just happened. Evelyn turned and caught sight of the two of them.

“Dorian! Blackwall!” She grinned and waved them over. “Come and join us.”

Dorian opened his mouth to demur and knew that Blackwall was preparing to do the same from the way the man tensed beside him. Before either of them could say anything, Evelyn continued.

“You have to dance with me, Blackwall, and save Cullen’s poor feet. I’ve been stepping on them endlessly. And Dorian! I’m sure you’ll be a far better person to help teach Cullen to dance properly then I am.”

Dorian would have cursed her for that but then he saw the glint in her eyes. It wasn’t aimed at him but at Blackwall and his breath caught in his chest.

“My lady…” Blackwall began and Dorian slapped him heartily on the shoulder.

“The Inquisitor demands, Blackwall,” he said. “You cannot deny her.”

Evelyn grinned at Dorian then gave Blackwall a mock-imperious look. “Yes! The Inquisitor demands. Come and dance with me.”

Blackwall conceded with a rusty chuckle. “Well, if my lady demands, I must obey.”

Dorian watched him walk over to Evelyn and take her hand. She smiled up at him and it smacked Dorian over the head that whatever he had seen when he walked in, it was a fiction on Evelyn’s side. From the smile she was directing at the now blushing Blackwall – a smile so different than the one she’d bestowed on Cullen as to be chalk and cheese – she knew precisely who she wanted. So he screwed up his courage and walked over to Cullen, who was watching Evelyn and Blackwall with an odd look Dorian couldn’t decipher as he rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Having trouble with the dance?” Dorian asked as he sauntered up to the man.

Cullen tore his eyes away from Evelyn and Blackwall and smiled wryly. “I wasn’t planning on dancing at all but Josephine is insisting that I know at least one, just in case.”

“And our good Ambassador is not a woman to be denied,” Dorian said jovially. He stepped around to face Cullen. “Lucky for you I am a very skilled dancer and I know how to dance both parts.”

Cullen looked hesitant for a moment then he moved into the appropriate position and they started moving through the steps of the dance. 

“Eyes on me, Commander,” Dorian said then he found himself in the same position Evelyn had been in just before. Something about making the eye contact required by the dance seemed to relax Cullen and he smiled a little. Dorian drew in a small breath at having that smile directed at him and rather stupidly, he found that his resolution to rid himself of these growing feelings for Cullen began to crumble. “That’s better.”

They continued dancing and then Cullen looked over Dorian’s shoulder and chuckled. Dorian raised an eyebrow at him.

“What could possibly be amusing you?”

Cullen looked back at him and shook his head with a small smile. “I didn’t think Evelyn’s plan would actually work.”

Dorian frowned. “What plan would that be?”

“To make sure Blackwall couldn’t use the excuse of not knowing how to dance to get out of dancing with her at Halamshiral.”

“I beg your pardon?” Dorian said, sounding utterly baffled.

Cullen chuckled. “She told me, when she was begging me to help her with this, that Blackwall had been muttering all sorts of things about not dancing and she’s determined to get at least one dance out of him at the ball.”

Dorian still didn’t quite understand. “You mean… she and Blackwall…?”

“Are… together?” Cullen said with the beginnings of one of those fetching blushes. “Yes.”

“Then you and Evelyn…?”

Now Cullen started looking confused. “Are friends. Dorian? What’s wrong?”

Dorian very rapidly pulled himself together, something that was surprisingly easy with both that particular piece of information and that about Evelyn and Blackwall warming his insides. “Nothing, Commander. Nothing at all. You know, you’re not so bad at this dancing thing.”

“Or you’re just nimble enough to avoid my feet,” Cullen said wryly.

“It could be that,” Dorian conceded with a quick grin.

It wasn’t perfect, this resolution, but it was better than what he’d thought and felt ten minutes ago. If he didn’t know how Cullen felt about _him_ , he did at least know how Cullen felt about _Evelyn_. And that gave him hope. It was stupid to hope, he knew that, but with this man, he couldn’t help it, even if part of him was convinced it could only end in disaster.

And he _did_ now know that the Commander could dance and there _was_ a ball coming up…


	32. Kisses - Carver Hawke/Felix Alexius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oooh look! A new pairing. Yes, I'm afraid I've been sucked into the world of FeVer.
> 
> This came from a request on tumblr of: 19 for the [kiss meme](http://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/post/142564567983/another-kiss-meme) with Fever?
> 
> So, 19 was: “Kisses because I don’t want you to go and maybe I can convince you to stay just a few minutes longer." This would be a modern AU though I’m remarkably unspecific about what kind. :D Mostly because this is unrepentant fluff.

It was the movement of the smaller body in his arms, snugged close to his body, that woke Carver. He grumbled under his breath and tightened his embrace, nuzzling into Felix’s short hair.

“Don’ go,” he mumbled, still more asleep than awake.

Felix chuckled and kissed the end of Carver’s nose. “I have to. I have an early meeting.”

“Nope.” Carver made another discontented noise and pressed his lips to the first piece of warm skin it found. “Stay.”

Felix sighed. “I’d love to but this meeting is important.”

Carver dragged himself a little further towards awake. He dragged his lips down Felix’s face in a series of soft kisses. “Let Dorian go instead.”

Felix melted against him a bit. “Dorian’s going to be there anyway.”

“Then it’ll be fine,” Carver muttered before kissing Felix properly.

Felix moaned into the kiss then made a noise of protest and pulled away. “I really, really have to go.”

Carver kissed his way along Felix’s jaw. “Call in sick,” he said between kisses.

Felix tilted his head back to allow better access. “I can’t. This meeting is important.”

Carver turned his attention to his lover’s neck and kissed his way down it before sucking a mark into the warm skin at the juncture between neck and shoulder.

“So? You’re sick, remember?”

Felix gave a somewhat desperate laugh. “Carver…”

Carver raised his head and grinned a little. “That’s not an argument, Felix.”

Felix captured his lips in another kiss. “I really can’t miss this meeting, Carver. Any other day…”

Carver grumbled and rolled them so that Felix was on his back on the bed and he loomed over him. He leaned down and kissed him again and again and again then he sighed and rolled over again so that he was on his back.

“Fine. Go and be professional,” he said with a lazy grin. “I’ll just stay here in our nice warm bed. Maybe jerk off a little.”

Felix sat up and walloped him on the shoulder. “Tease.”

He leaned over and gave Carver one last kiss before getting up and heading for the shower. As much as he’d like to spend the day lounging in bed and kissing Carver, duty called.


	33. Adorable - Male Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My prompt was: _Imagine Cullen being overly affectionate to M!lavellan out in public when he gets over that secretive business. It's so sweet it's sickening, but when they see the way Lavellan stares at anyone who tries to voice their discomfort, they stand down._
> 
> I think the moral of this story is don’t mess with Josephine. :D Or Mahanon for that matter. And Cullen is oblivious. To many things.
> 
> As always, I'm happy to be prompted at my [Tumblr askbox](http://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/ask).

Josephine quite frankly found the whole thing adorable but she’d freely admit to being a romantic. She didn’t know as much about Cullen’s background as Leliana did, though she probably knew more than he’d be comfortable with, but she knew enough to know that life had not always been kind to Cullen and that he had not always been kind to life in return. So watching the interactions between him and the Inquisitor was something she could only find adorable.

It hadn’t always been the case. She’d almost gotten cross with the Commander when he’d rejected Mahanon back in Haven. The poor elf had looked so miserable whenever Cullen wasn’t in the vicinity. It had been heartbreaking and she’d had a few sharp thoughts about how to suggest to Cullen how wrong he’d been. Cassandra had stopped her from doing anything about that. In an oblique, hesitant way, circling around an issue she clearly hadn’t wanted to talk about but had wanted Josephine to understand was important and very, very difficult for Cullen to deal with. Josephine had made a few educated guesses as to what that issue was and though she still wasn’t entirely happy, she had let sleeping dogs lie.

So when things had changed – and it had been obvious to someone with her skills when it had – she’d been delighted. Many plates of little cakes and those plain sweet biscuits Cullen liked so much had ended up on the Commander’s desk. He hadn’t complained but he’d clearly been confused. For his part, Mahanon had just been amused, both by Josephine’s actions and Cullen’s reactions.

And then had come the Incident on Vivienne’s Balcony. It thoroughly deserved the capital letters. Josephine placed the blame for it solely on Mahanon’s shoulders. Cullen had always been oblivious to the admiring, speculative and even lascivious looks that were sent in his direction but Mahanon wasn’t. Josephine had watched the Inquisitor slowly steam about them, sending back pointed looks and glares that were sometimes effective but mostly not, until he’d clearly finally snapped.

It had been a possessive act. Cullen was a private man. Josephine had never thought him repressed or virginal but certainly private. Reserved might be a good word. He largely wasn’t given to open acts of affection, though Josephine thought him quite capable of them if it was necessary. Needless to say, the Commander’s reserve had meant that most hadn’t been aware of the change in his relationship with the Inquisitor.

That certainly couldn’t be said after everyone in the main hall had heard Cullen’s very vocal response to his love-making with Mahanon. Josephine didn’t know how Mahanon had managed to knock down Cullen’s reserve to the point where he was so lost in pleasure as to be unaware of his surroundings but she could come up with a few ideas that made her blush. And giggle. Leliana had come up with a few more over a couple of bottles of wine the evening of the Incident.

While mostly amused by the Incident, Josephine had been a bit concerned about Cullen’s reaction in the aftermath. He was a private person and Mahanon had not only outed them to all and sundry but had publically displayed – in a way – their love-making. She did not imagine Cullen would be terribly comfortable with that. But at the next meeting in the War Room, Mahanon had been smug and a little sheepish while Cullen had looked resigned and embarrassed, even more so when she and Leliana giggled, but there had been a thread of fond amusement directed at Mahanon that had largely set Josephine’s mind at ease. Whatever displeasure Cullen had felt in the aftermath of the Incident had clearly been resolved between the two of them.

In fact, Cullen seemed to have decided that since they’d been so effectively outed, he no longer needed to be quite so reserved about displaying his affection and love for the Inquisitor. It was, in Josephine’s eyes, utterly adorable. Cullen really was a very sweet man, prone to using pet names and terms of affection or bestowing gentle caresses to the cheek or jawline or kissing Mahanon on the cheek. Quite honestly it was enough to make Josephine feel a little jealous.

Not everyone shared her opinion however. On her forays out into the hall, it had become obvious that some among their guests found the situation less than pleasing. She wasn’t sure if it was just discomfort at the sheer amount of sweetness on display – it was honestly sweet enough to make the need for dessert entirely unnecessary – or whether there was something deeper and darker to it but it had certainly been enough for her to discuss with Leliana whether or not they should intervene. Leliana had suggested more observation and then Josephine had seen it.

Mahanon was well aware of these people. He had come a long way from the young, slightly naïve Dalish archer that had been found in the wreckage of the Temple. Under her tutelage and following his own instincts, he’d shown a knack for the Great Game that was astonishing for someone not trained in it from childhood, while somehow never losing that edge of decency. He’d grown into a truly formidable Inquisitor who was no longer intimidated or afraid of anything shemlen, as he might put it. So he knew of what was going on and when Cullen wasn’t looking, the expression he levelled at these people was truly magnificent. It was intimidating and challenging. It just dared them to say anything and unsurprisingly not one of them did.

Still, while they might not be willing to say anything in Skyhold, they could well loosen their lips outside the stronghold so Josephine made a note to make sure that didn’t happen. Because what was going on between Cullen and Mahanon was truly _adorable_ and Josephine had no intention of letting _anything_ stop it.


	34. Good Morning - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My prompt was: 16 with whatever pairing you feel up to :> (From [this list](http://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/post/142967990683/so-that-sex-tropes-thing-looks-like-a-really-good))
> 
> So, 16 is sleepy morning kisses that accidentally turn intense and it’s with Cullrian. It’s also kinda fluffy. This is set post-Trespasser and there is a very minor mention of Solavellan.

Dorian had a thousand things that he ought to be doing now that he was awake. There were at least a dozen proposals for the Magisterium that needed to be looked over, not to mention everything that had to be done to oversee both the Pavus and Alexius estates _and_ the confidential enquiries he had on his desk from the former Inquisitor, Leliana and Harding about things in Tevinter that apparently had great importance for the hunt for Fen’Harel. He wanted to do precisely none of them. All he wanted to do was lie here and watch Cullen sleep.

The former Commander had arrived unexpectedly late the previous evening, hidden swathed in a cloak and with his Mabari at his side. He’d looked hot and tired and drawn and Dorian had asked no questions. Instead he’d ushered Cullen inside, had his servants – no slaves, he’d taken that leap after returning from the Exalted Council and hadn’t _that_ set a cat amongst the pigeons that was still causing feathers to fly – look after the dog while he’d taken Cullen upstairs and drawn him a cool bath. But before he could coax the Commander into the bath, he’d been backed up against the wall by the man in question and kissed as thoroughly as he’d ever been kissed in his life.

He hadn’t asked too many questions even then, just enough to make sure it truly was Cullen, that he wasn’t under the influence of some sort of drug or demon and that he knew what he was doing and really wanted this. Then he’d joined Cullen in that bath. 

Not that they’d done much. Cullen had been utterly exhausted and once Dorian had rid him of the grime and grit of several day’s travel overland, the man had all but dozed off against him. So he’d gotten Cullen out of the bath, dried him off and poured him into his bed where the Commander had fallen asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

And now, here he was. Lying on his side facing Dorian, the light sheet that was all that was needed against the coolness of the nights here pooled at his waist, his hair settled into the curls Dorian had seen so rarely at Skyhold but always delighted at. There were still signs of exhaustion etched into his face but they were lighter and less obvious than they had been the previous night. Those signs of weariness were the only things that convinced Dorian that this wasn’t a dream.

As Dorian watched, Cullen’s eyes flickered open. For a moment, disorientation and confusion were paramount in them then they focused on Dorian and they softened and he smiled.

“Good morning, Cullen,” Dorian said, feeling no need to use the man’s title after last night.

“Good morning.”

Cullen’s voice was soft and raspy from sleep and Dorian couldn’t help but lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips. Cullen gave a contented rumble at the action and brushed his fingers over Dorian’s cheek.

Dorian settled back down facing Cullen and he brushed his fingers over Cullen’s hand where it lay on the bed. “As much as I am loathe to ruin the mood, I…” He looked at their hands rather than Cullen’s face. “I’m not sure what this is.”

As he watched, Cullen lifted his hand and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles. “It’s… everything. If you want it… want me.” He sighed softly. “I should have said something a long time ago, Dorian. I was just… afraid.”

“Afraid? Of what?” Dorian asked, almost unable to believe what was being said. The Inquisitor had often gently teased him about the way he’d pined after Cullen, constantly encouraging him to make a move, that he wouldn’t be rejected. He’d never dared to, never _really_ believed that Cullen was interested. It seemed that they’d perhaps both been fools.

“That you wouldn’t want me,” Cullen whispered. “I don’t… Dorian, my past…”

Dorian stopped his stuttering with another of those soft gentle kisses. “You thought I wouldn’t want you,” he murmured against Cullen’s lips in a disbelieving tone. “Maker preserve me, Cullen, I’ve wanted you since you stopped me from falling at the gates of Haven.” He gave a soft huff of a laugh. “As for your past, I have my own past, Cullen. I’m hardly one to throw stones at someone else.”

“Then you…?” Cullen’s look of hope was almost too much for Dorian to bear.

“Yes, I want you, you foolish man,” Dorian scolded gently.

He gave a huff when Cullen pulled him close but he went willingly, joyfully even, and sighed happily to feel that solid, muscular body pressed up against his own. He felt Cullen nuzzle against the shorn side of his hair and he raised his head to meet those lips with his own. They traded gentle kisses and soft caresses and Dorian would honestly have been happy to leave it at that but then Cullen shifted just a little in the bed and it was as thought he’d flipped a switch somewhere. Dorian couldn’t even say how or what had really happened but suddenly a wave of desire and lust washed through him and he was instantly, achingly hard.

It took precisely three seconds for Cullen to recognise what was pressed against his hip, warm and pulsing with every now frantic beat of Dorian’s heart, and respond accordingly. Cullen stared at him for a moment with wide, startled eyes then that maddening, infuriating smirk that Dorian loved so much appeared on his face.

“Well… good morning,” he murmured as his face flushed with arousal.

“Yes… yes, it is,” Dorian replied as he pushed Cullen onto his back.

Cullen went willingly, chuckling as he pulled Dorian on top of him, then their lips met again, only this time the kiss was heated and wanting as they rolled their hips together. For all that desire and want and need squalled around them, they never sped up the lazy roll of their hips as they kissed and nipped at each other’s lips, jaws, necks, content to let the inevitable end wash over them as they gasped and moaned into each other’s mouths and Dorian went limp on top of his lover.

A long time later, after he cleaned them both up and they’d curled up in bed together again, Dorian lay there in Cullen’s arms and watched as the diaphanous curtains on the windows billowed with the morning breeze. There was a scent about the breeze that gave hints that it was going to be hot and humid today but for now it was still pleasant enough to be tangled together like this.

“How long can you stay?” he murmured as he played with the hair on Cullen’s chest.

“As long as you want me to,” Cullen replied sleepily, something Dorian took as a bit of a personal triumph given how driven and overworked the man had been at Skyhold. That Dorian had him still wallowing in bed and clearly contemplating sleeping some more well after the sub had risen could only be considered a triumph.

“Doesn’t Lavellan need you wherever she is?”

Cullen yawned. “She wants to move everything here to Tevinter. All the signs point to Solas being here somewhere. Or if not here then somewhere in the north.” He paused then continued a little hesitantly, “That’s… part of the reason why she sent me.”

Dorian raised his head and was hard pressed to smother the smile that threatened at the sheepish look on Cullen’s face. “Part of the reason?”

He knew that Cullen would be rubbing the back of his neck in that awkwardly endearing way of his if they’d been standing but since they weren’t, he had to settle for a blush and wry, shy smile.

“She… may have suggested in no uncertain terms that…” He licked his lips and sadness drifted over his face for a moment. “That there not be two of us with regrets about their love.”

Dorian chuckled. “Remind me to send her a fruit basket.” Then he sighed. “She’s still in love with him, isn’t she?”

Cullen nodded. “She tries to hide it but… yes.”

Dorian shook his head. He hadn’t quite wrapped his mind round the whole ‘Solas is Fen’Harel’ thing and he couldn’t even _begin_ to imagine how Lavellan was feeling, knowing her lover was not only one of her gods but was the Dread Wolf himself. And that he was planning something that could only be described as quite catastrophic. Not that he was as angry about the whole thing as some of their friends. He did rather understand the concept of making terrible decisions and then trying to live with the consequences. He hadn’t made terrible decisions on quite the same magnitude as Solas… or Fen’Harel… but he still understood.

“So Lavellan needs somewhere for her secret organisation to stay, hmm?” he mused.

“She does.” Cullen paused. “Though I was rather hoping that I… might stay… here?”

Dorian stared at him for a moment then broke out into a smile. “You can stay as long as you want, Amatus.”

Cullen beamed at him then his smile changed into something more predatory and Dorian quickly found himself on his back. He laughed and pulled Cullen down against him. It might have taken them some time to get here but he was finally right where he wanted to be.


	35. Kitty - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay so there was [this post over on Tumblr](http://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/post/142978436213/bloglikeaman-this-is-the-only-cat-i-would-every) where there was a fluffy cat with a curly moustache like Dorian’s and I commented that it looked like a Dorian-cat. And then I wrote fic in which Dorian is turned into a cat and Cullen has to deal with that.

Cullen had no idea why there had been any confusion that the cat was Dorian. It had Dorian’s moustache, Dorian’s imperious glare and Dorian’s entire attitude. Of course, the cat was a lot fluffier than Cullen had ever thought a feline version of Dorian might be. Not that he _had_ ever thought about that but when the news had come that the cat that had been found snarling and spitting and hissing on Dorian’s chair was, in fact, the Tevinter mage, he’d somehow expected something lean and sleek and black, not the grey and white fluffy cat that was sitting on the war table, tail flicking imperiously as he glared at all of them.

Cullen once again squelched the urge to pat Dorian to see how soft that fur was or to scratch behind his ears to see if he would purr. Trevleyan hadn’t managed that much self-control and had a lovely set of scratches on the back of one hand for his troubles. Dorian hadn’t looked even the slightest bit apologetic. In fact, when Trevelyan had protested, Dorian had only hissed at him and then growled deep in his chest. Everyone had gotten the message. Do not touch Dorian without permission, no matter how fluffy and adorable he looked.

“It _is_ magic and quite likely related to the book Dorian was reading,” Solas said, holding up the tome in question. “However having read the passage Dorian indicated three times without any transformation affecting me, I cannot say what it is.”

Dorian made an irritated yowling noise and Solas sighed.

“I am assuming that was a demand to transform you back. I cannot.” He rolled his eyes when Dorian spat something that probably would have been either an obscenity or at the very least something tart and pithy. “ _However_ … the magic is wearing off. I estimate it will take three days before it is gone and you transform back into yourself.”

Dorian looked very unimpressed by that though the very sour meow that came next at least indicated that he understood.

“Alright,” Trevelyan said, rubbing at the scratches on the back of his hand. “So, we need someone to look after Dorian for the next three days?” He sighed when Dorian hissed at him. “Unless you’d _like_ to join the barn cats eating mice?”

Dorian growled and Cullen stepped forward, drawing everyone’s attention. He told himself that he was just saving the Inquisitor from having Dorian go after his face instead of his hand and no other reason. It wasn’t at all because he _liked_ Dorian far more than he probably should and wanted to keep him safe.

“I’ll look after him.”

“Good. Excellent. That’s settled,” Trevelyan said hurriedly, rubbing his hands together. 

He looked between Dorian the cat and Cullen and then hurried out of the room. Leliana and Josephine looked at Cullen and then Dorian and also decided to beat a strategic retreat, though they looked more amused than anything else. Solas patted Cullen on the shoulder as he passed.

“Good luck,” the elven mage murmured before he closed the door behind him.

Cullen turned around and was surprised to find Dorian looking at him very, very warily. As they stared at each other, Dorian’s tail flicked back and forth and he let out a nervous meow.

“Um, shall we… go?” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “Er, I could carry…” He winced and shook his head. “No, no… um, do you want to walk or I could…” He gestured nervously then angled himself towards the table. “You could, uh… ride on my shoulders? It’d be quicker.”

Dorian’s eyes widened and this time he let out a small meep. Cullen frowned and his hand twitched to stop himself from reaching out to pat Dorian’s head.

“Dorian? What’s wrong?”

Dorian let out a long series of meows and yowls then slumped down, looking defeated. He gave a sullen mrrp and then huffed. This time Cullen couldn’t help himself. He reached out and scritched behind Dorian’s ears.

“I know. I’m sorry about this but at least it _will_ wear off.”

Dorian purred and leaned into his touch and then seemed to realise what he was doing. He straightened and hissed at Cullen, who quickly snatched his hand away.

“Er… sorry.” Dorian looked slightly mollified so Cullen continued. “So…”

Dorian meowed, a long exasperated sound, then jumped up onto Cullen’s shoulders. He wobbled and slipped and there was a thin screeching sound as one claw scraped down Cullen’s armour but then he steadied himself and settled into the fur of Cullen’s mantle.

“Comfy?” Cullen asked dryly.

Dorian meeped smugly and Cullen couldn’t help but laugh. He made his way back to his office with Dorian meowing and meeping and otherwise commenting in his ear the whole way. The sounds ranged from annoyed to amused and Cullen was hard pressed not to laugh at them. Thankfully once he got back to his office, he was able to distract himself with the mountain of paperwork that was on his desk.

At first he sat down since Dorian had refused to move from where he was half buried in Cullen’s fur mantle but soon the usual result of sitting too long began to catch up with him. He wasn’t sure whether it was part of the withdrawal that made him twitchy and achy if he sat for too long or just a result of having been an active soldier for so many years. Either way, when the muscles in his legs and back started twitching, he got to his feet suddenly enough to draw a protest from Dorian.

“Sorry,” he muttered, still caught up in the report he was reading.

He began to pace back and forth across the office as he continued to read, only pausing when a scout came in with some new reports from Leliana. He placed that report on his desk and continued with the pacing. It took a few minutes for Dorian’s irritated grumbling to gain his attention and he stopped.

“Sorry, Dorian,” he said quietly. “I just…”

Dorian sneezed in his ear then leaped from his shoulders to the table. He gave Cullen an imperious look then curled up into a ball on top of the largest pile of papers and ostensibly went to sleep. Cullen sighed and went back to work. 

The afternoon passed quietly enough. Cullen had his work and if he occasionally let his fingers drift over Dorian’s soft fur as he paced, well, Dorian didn’t seem to mind and it gave him peace of mind of knowing that Dorian was safe. A _cat_ but safe nonetheless.

The light from outside had long since dimmed and the candles been lit when Dorian woke. Cullen watched as he yawned then stretched first his body then his legs and paws and claws. He seemed to enjoy it very much and Cullen couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. Dorian glared at him then mewed piteously enough to surprise Cullen.

“What was that all about?”

Dorian leapt off the table and after a moment’s indecision began to curl and coil around Cullen’s legs, all the while continuing that piteous mewing and occasionally pausing to prop himself against Cullen’s leg and look up at him imploringly. Cullen found himself caving in immediately.

“That’s emotional blackmail,” he said with amused exasperation as he bent down and picked Dorian up. Dorian made an indignant sound then settled into his previous position half-hidden in Cullen’ fur mantle with a huff. “I take it you’re hungry.”

Dorian meowed loudly in agreement and Cullen set his work aside. 

“Alright. We’ll see what the kitchen staff can do.”

He made his way into the keep proper and then down to the kitchen. He strongly suspected that word had gone out about Dorian’s new temporary situation because although there were many longing looks that all but screamed “ _Kitty_! Want to pat the kitty!”, no one made a move to do so. The story of Trevelyan’s war wounds must have been a sufficient deterrent but he set that thought aside as the head chef bustled over.

“Commander. How may I help?”

“Can I get a tray to take back to my office and, uh…” He glanced over at Dorian who was watching the hustle and bustle of the kitchen imperiously. “I actually have no idea what he’s going to be willing to eat.”

From the look the chef gave the cat and then himself, Cullen was absolutely convinced that the man knew exactly who his furry passenger was and what had happened. 

“Leave it with me, Commander,” the chef said before disappearing off into the kitchen.

Cullen didn’t have to wait long before he returned with a tray. There were two covered plates, a carafe of wine, a jug of water and a goblet and a small bowl.

“That should see you right, Commander,” the chef said then he left before Cullen could thank him.

Dorian meowed continuously in his ear as he made his way back towards his office and he had to awkwardly fend off several attempts at crawling down his arm or chest to get at the tray.

“Dorian!” he finally yelped. “You’ll get to eat a lot sooner if you stop doing that.”

Dorian seemed to almost teleport back to where he’d been ensconced and he purred innocently.

“I’m not buying that act for one moment,” Cullen said with exasperation.

Dorian made a dismissive meh sound and began kneading the fur in front of him with both paws. It was an odd sensation but as he was keeping his claws to himself, Cullen let it go. Once in the office, Cullen set the tray on his desk then cleared off the papers enough to allow them both to eat. One plate proved to be a hearty meal of the roast that had been turning on the spit as well as some vegetables and the pickles Cullen secretly – or apparently not-so-secretly – liked. The other plate, clearly aimed at Dorian, was a selection of titbits of fish, meat and poultry. Cullen set both plates on the desk then poured some of the wine in a goblet for himself and the water in the bowl for Dorian. He then turned and raised an eyebrow at the cat.

“Well? You were the one who was apparently starving.”

Dorian sniffed then very leisurely stretched and jumped down onto the desk. He sniffed at Cullen’s plate and shuddered before making his way over to the other plate. He sat down in front of it and glared at it for a moment.

Cullen took a seat and pulled his plate over towards him. He picked up his knife and fork and began eating while watching Dorian with amusement. The cat was looking between his plate and the utensils Cullen was holding and Cullen chuckled.

“You don’t have thumbs, Dorian. You’re not going to be able to eat with a fork and knife, no matter how hard you try.” Then when Dorian sniffed at the water and then the wine. “And no wine for cats.”

Dorian gave him a look of disdain and then began to delicately eat. Cullen watched him for a moment before he realised he was smiling very indulgently and then quickly turned his attention back to his own meal. When he finished, he intended to go back to his work but Dorian had other ideas. Every time he tried, Dorian would sit on his paperwork or yowl at him or otherwise annoy him until he finally gave it up.

“You are very annoying,” he said with a sigh.

Dorian just looked smugly at him then jumped off the desk and ran over to the ladder. He sat down next to it and looked expectantly at Cullen. The Commander sighed then got to his feet. 

“I suppose an early night won’t hurt.” He hesitated for a moment then gestured towards the door. “Uh, did you need to… um…?”

Dorian gave him a narrow-eyed look then he huffed and walked over to the door. Cullen opened it for him and watched as Dorian disappeared into the darkness. He took the opportunity to blow out most of the candles in the office. When Dorian returned, the cat gave him a look that Cullen interpreted as ‘we shall never speak of this again’ and he closed the door. He crouched down to allow Dorian to climb up into his mantle and climbed up the ladder. Dorian leapt immediately onto the bed and sat watching Cullen imperiously as he undressed. 

“Uh… could you turn around perhaps?” Cullen asked when he was down to his shirt and breeches. He knew he was blushing but this wasn’t a _cat_ as such. It was _Dorian_ and that complicated matters enormously. He would have liked nothing better than to undress for Dorian but not like this and not when he didn’t actually know whether Dorian’s flirting was real or just reflex.

Dorian looked amused and for a moment Cullen wasn’t sure he was going to move. Eventually he sighed and stood before ostentatiously turning around. He sat down and his tail flicked constantly as Cullen hurried stripped and pulled on a pair of loose soft pants he dug out of his trunk. He normally slept naked but that… wasn’t exactly an option right now.

He climbed into bed and blew out the candles on the small tables beside his bed. His eyes swiftly adjusted to the moonlight coming in through the hole in his roof and he settled down on his side to sleep. A moment later, he was startled by Dorian leaping over him and curling up against his chest. He held himself very still then Dorian began to purr and he relaxed and gently stroked the cat’s soft fur. The purring soothed him more than he expected and he soon found himself drifting off to sleep.

Cullen woke the next morning to find he was lying on his back and there was a heavy weight on his chest. He opened his eyes to find Dorian sitting on his chest, watching him intently. He closed his eyes again and sighed as best as he could.

“Dorian. You’re very heavy.”

Dorian stood up and Cullen yelped as that just made things worse with little cat feet pressing heavily into his ribs. Dorian sneezed at him then jumped off and sat down on the mattress, glaring at him imperiously when he didn’t immediately get up.

“I could let Sera look after you,” he said with some exasperation as he sat up.

Dorian hissed at him and showed him a flash of claws.

“I’m not impressed,” Cullen grumbled as he shoved the blankets away and got up, Dorian slipping out of his way with alacrity.

Dorian meowed curiously at him and Cullen found he could almost understand what the cat was saying.

“Whatever gave you the impression I was a morning person?”

Dorian jumped down and sat down next to the armour, looking at him imperiously.

“I’ve been _trained_ to get up early,” Cullen said, running a hand through his hair and grimacing at the feel of the curls. “They didn’t train me to _like_ getting up early.”

Dorian yawned then he seemed to get some idea in his head. He leapt from floor to trunk to bookshelf then made a wild leap onto Cullen’s shoulders where he simultaneously shoved his face into Cullen’s curls and slipped just enough to instinctively dig his claws into Cullen’s unprotected skin. Cullen yelped at the sudden pain and jerked away from it, which only caused Dorian to accidentally dig in his claws a bit more before he finally tumbled down onto the bed. Cullen clapped a hand over the bloody claw marks and glared at him.

“Dorian!” he bellowed. “What the hell was that all about?”

Dorian shrank down and meeped apologetically. Cullen sat down on the bed with a huffed sigh and Dorian immediately rubbed his face against his arm.

“Sorry, Dorian. I didn’t mean to yell at you. Your claws _hurt_.”

Dorian mrred and purred and continued to rub his face against every bit of Cullen he could reach until Cullen chuckled and scritched behind his ears. Dorian’s purr got a bit louder then he stretched up until he could rest his paws on Cullen’s shoulder and rub his face into his curly hair.

“Is that what’s got you all worked up?” Cullen blushed but he sounded exasperated. “Why else do you think Varric calls me Curly?”

Dorian made a smug meowing noise then continued to rub his face in Cullen’s curl until the Commander finally gave an exasperated laugh and stood up.

“Enough. I have work to do.”

Dorian pouted then curled up on the pillows. Cullen got dressed and when Dorian showed no signs of moving, he chuckled and headed for the stairs.

“I’ll be back later if you want to come down and can’t figure out the ladder.”

By the time he got back from his sparring session with Cassandra and the bath that followed, Dorian had indeed figured out how to get down the stairs and was sitting smugly on his desk, his fluffy tail fanning the papers onto the floor with every sweep. Cullen just sighed and started picking them up.

“Why am I not surprised you turned into a cat?”

Dorian ignored him and leapt up to settle in his fur, seeming to be quite happy to stay there while he worked and again when he walked over to his morning meeting in the War Room. He did however hiss at Trevelyan when the man reached out towards him then he purred smugly at Trevelyan’s pout. Later, he yawned extensively and very noisily when the meeting continued on longer than expected.

“I think we’ve covered all that we need to today,” Josephine said after the fifth time Dorian had yawned audibly. She looked very amused.

“You’re right,” Trevelyan said before giving Dorian an imploring look, which the cat utterly ignored.

“There, there, Inquisitor,” Leliana said, laughter rippling through her voice at the man’s crestfallen expression.

“Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, think I’ll go eat worms,” Trevelyan said wryly. “See if I do anything nice for _you_ when you change back, Dorian.”

Dorian raised his head and growled. Trevelyan raised both hands in a placating gesture.

“Alright! I’ll do many nice things for you when you change back.”

Dorian purred smugly.

“On that note, I think we’re going,” Cullen said firmly.

The next few days continued in much the same patterns. Dorian’s demands ensured Cullen ate regularly and went to sleep at a sensible hour, Trevelyan continued to pout amusingly at Dorian’s refusal to let him pat him and Cullen started to get used to Dorian’s presence. Solas dropped by once a day to monitor the magic and all he would say was that it was wearing off and it would end soon. He refused to put a timeline on ‘soon’.

‘Soon’ turned out to be just before dawn, three days after Dorian had been turned into a cat. Cullen knew this because he was half awake, debating whether to shove Dorian off his perch on his chest and pay for that with much in the way of pouting and meowing when suddenly it wasn’t a cat lying on his chest but a very human Dorian. A very warm _naked_ human Dorian, who woke up with a start that keyed Cullen’s body into the fact that it had a warm naked Dorian lying on top of it and reacted accordingly.

Dorian gathered his wits together and assessed the situation a great deal faster than Cullen did and he smirked down at the man lying underneath him.

“You seem very pleased to see me, Commander.”

“Cullen,” he rasped. “I think, under the circumstances, you should call me Cullen.”

Dorian’s smirk softened into something warm. “Is there something you wanted to tell me, Cullen?” he purred.

Cullen licked his lips. “Many things. But right now? I’m glad you’re back.”

Dorian laughed and leaned down. “You should show me how glad,” he murmured.

Cullen pulled him into a kiss that started out soft and warm and quickly become quite heated until they were forced to separate in order to breathe.

“Very glad.” Cullen rolled them so that Dorian was underneath him. “Very, very glad,” he said before he went on showing Dorian just how much.


	36. Red Silk & Lace - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous over on tumblr prompted me with number 9 on [this particular prompt list](http://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/post/143341194113/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you) and 9 is confessing a fetish. This fic is NFSW and Dorian’s fetish is Cullen wearing something along the lines of [this](http://g02.a.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1cDVCIXXXXXbdXXXXq6xXFXXXS/Free-shipping-6pcs-lot-Women-s-Lace-panties-Girl-Briefs-double-straps-comfortable-euro-lace-underwear.jpg).

Dorian paced back and forth in Cullen’s bedroom, pausing occasionally to look down into the office whenever he thought he’d heard a noise. The War Room meeting had gone on longer than he’d thought it would. He’d expected Cullen back an hour ago and the delay was ratcheting up his nerves to the breaking point. Or at least to the point where he was starting to rethink this whole thing and discard it as a bad idea. It was true that this… thing between him and Cullen was more than anything he’d ever had before, was _everything_ if he wanted it if Cullen was to be believed and at least part of him _did_ believe the other man. But this? What he wanted to ask now? This could well break the most important thing in his life.

He’d just given it up as a bad idea and climbed down from the bedroom to head out the door when said door opened and he almost walked straight into Cullen. The Commander grabbed hold of him and steadied him then he smiled.

“Dorian! I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

“I… yes, well, I was just leaving.”

Cullen gave him an odd look. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes! No.” Dorian huffed. “I really don’t know.”

Cullen chuckled and set down the reports he’d brought back from the War Room. “Why don’t you tell me and we can work it out?”

Dorian paced back and forth as he frowned. This was a bad idea but… Cullen had seemed entirely accepting of everything about him thus far, including his overt use of magic. As long as he didn’t startle the man with it. Startling Cullen with magic usually resulted in at least an hour of having to metaphorically coax the man down from the ceiling and there were far too many better things Dorian would rather be doing when he was with Cullen.

“Dorian?”

He gave a start when Cullen’s hand landed on his shoulder then he grabbed hold of that hand when Cullen tried to jerk it away.

“Could we… go upstairs?”

Cullen looked worried now but he nodded. “Of course.”

Dorian knew he’d only bought himself a couple of minutes but it was enough to allow him to screw up what remained of his courage. When they got upstairs, he gestured for Cullen to sit down.

“I’d… like to ask you something,” he said. “You can say no to this. I’ll understand perfectly if you do but it’s something I… I like and I’d like to try with you.”

Cullen stared at him blankly then he slowly blushed when he realised that Dorian was talking about something to do with their bedroom activities. He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled shyly.

“I think I can safely say I’ll consider it.” His expression became a little heated. “I… I’ve liked everything else you’ve suggested.”

Dorian licked his lips. “I… I know. But this is… a little different.” He drew in a deep breath and pulled out a scrap of lace and silk from his pocket. “I was wondering if you would… wear these for me.”

Cullen stared at the item in his hand then he got up and walked over so that he could take it. He held it up and blushed a brilliant crimson when he realised that it was a pair of red silk and lace smalls in a decidedly feminine style. A pair of smalls that were definitely sized for him and not for any lady in Skyhold.

“You want me to wear these?” he said and winced when his voice came out as more of a squeak than anything else. “Why?”

Dorian licked his lips and looked away. “I… I’d like it. Very much.”

“Oh.”

Cullen looked down at the smalls and then up at Dorian. His lover was looking anywhere but at him and there was an air about him that made Cullen think that the wrong word said right now and Dorian would bolt and it might take weeks to get the man to stop avoiding him. He looked down at the smalls again and ran them through his fingers. The silk was soft and supple and the lace was not as rough as he thought it might have been. He tried to picture himself wearing them and thought he’d look ridiculous but if Dorian would like it… well, if there was one thing he’d learned since he’d begun this relationship with Dorian, it was that things that sounded a bit odd were sometimes very, very pleasurable.

“Alright.”

Dorian’s head shot up and he stared at Cullen with wide eyes. “Yes?”

Cullen blushed and nodded. “Yes.”

Dorian looked flustered and excited and he jittered in place for a moment. “I’ll… I’ll go downstairs and… and let you change.”

He was down the ladder before Cullen could do or say anything and he could hear Dorian pacing in the office below. He stared down at the smalls for a moment longer then he slowly began to strip off his armour and clothes. When he was naked, he picked up the smalls again and shivered a little, telling himself it was because of the chill night air drifting in through the hole in the roof rather than the thought of how Dorian might react to him wearing these… assuming he didn’t look like an idiot in them.

Cullen pulled on the smalls and drew in a sharp breath. The silk felt… decadent against his cock and the lace hugged his arse in ways he’d never felt before. The blush that stained his cheeks now was only partially due to embarrassment and his cock twitched and began to fill.

“Uh... Dorian? I’m… I’m ready.”

Dorian almost squeaked when Cullen finally called out to him and when he climbed the ladder up to the bedroom, he kept his eyes firmly on what he was doing. It wasn’t until he was safely up the stairs and on level ground that he looked at Cullen. His breath caught in his throat and he could only manage a low, needy whimper as he took in the sight before him. 

Cullen looked bashful and a little awkward as he stood in nothing more than the silk smalls. The red of the smalls contrasted beautifully with his pale skin and Dorian made a mental note to order some more in some darker colours to see what they would look like. As he stared, Cullen’s hands twitched like he wanted to cover himself but Dorian couldn’t help but notice the growing bulge that spoke of Cullen’s interest in the proceedings.

“Maker’s breath, Amatus,” he breathed. “You look beautiful.”

Cullen ducked his head and blushed at the praise and Dorian could do nothing more than close the gap between them and kiss him. As they kissed, his hands wandered along Cullen’s shoulders and chest then down to his waist and stomach and back and finally he let them slide down to cup Cullen’s arse over the lace and pull him close. Cullen gasped when he did that and he broke off from the kisses to look at him.

“Are you alright?”

From Cullen’s wide-eyes and the gorgeous flush on his cheeks, he suspected the answer was yes but he wanted to be sure. 

“Y… yes,” Cullen replied and Dorian noticed that Cullen’s hips were pressing against his again and again.

Dorian gave a wicked smile. “Silk isn’t such a bad thing after all?”

Cullen shook his head, his cheeks getting a bit redder, though it was noticeable that his hips didn’t stop moving. Dorian nudged him until he started moving back towards the bed then when they got there he gave Cullen a gentle shove down onto the mattress. He drew in a sharp breath when he looked down. Cullen lay sprawled on the bed, his face flushed with arousal and the silken front of the smalls tented obscenely and wet with precome. As Cullen shifted on the bed, the head of his cock slipped out from the waistband of the smalls to slide wetly against his stomach. Dorian could only whimper as he started fumbling with his clothes.

“Fasta vass,” he breathed, his eyes wide. “You will be the death of me one day, Amatus. Look at you.”

Cullen’s eyes flickered away in embarrassment then he looked back and smiled sweetly. That smile combined with the rest of the picture Cullen presented punched Dorian in the chest and took his breath away. Cullen had done this for him for no other reason than because Dorian had asked him to. Despite his obvious reservations and uncertainty, he’d done this purely to make Dorian happy. He truly did not deserve this precious, beautiful man but he was going to keep him anyway.

Dorian fumbled with his clothes, unable to take his eyes off Cullen, and whatever was showing on his face was clearly giving his lover some confidence. He ran one hand down his chest and, as Dorian yanked his shirt off, that hand drifted over where his cock was peeking out of the silk and lace smalls. He saw the way Cullen shuddered as his thumb brushed over the sensitive head of his cock and Dorian almost fell over as he tried to get his boots and breeches off at the same time.

“Kaffas,” he said in a choked voice as he finally flung the last of his clothes away, uncaring of where they ended up. He was achingly hard and he knew his hands must be shaking. “ _Cullen_.”

His almost inarticulate reaction got that sly smirk from Cullen that he so adored and he decided he really needed to take back the initiative here. He climbed onto the bed and in between Cullen’s legs, spreading them with both hands before running his fingers up the inside of Cullen’s thighs. The warrior twitched under his touch and moaned softly. Dorian ran his hands up so that he could frame Cullen’s cock where it strained at the fabric of the smallclothes. He admired the picture he’d created for a moment then leaned forward and mouthed at the head of Cullen’s cock. 

His lover arched and cried out at the stimulation and Dorian took a moment to run his hands over the silk and lace underclothes before he grabbed hold of the sides and with a sharp yank, tore them off. Cullen made a choked noise that turned into a yowl of pleasure when Dorian drew his erection into his mouth.

Dorian was relentless as he sucked and licked at Cullen’s cock until the man arched underneath him and came, spilling down his throat. He then rose onto his knees and wrapped his hand around his own cock. It didn’t take long. A few quick strokes and he was striping Cullen’s chest and stomach with his own spend. He wavered for a moment then Cullen was drawing him down into his arms.

“Maker’s breath, that was… amazing,” Cullen murmured.

Dorian chuckled breathlessly. “Then you… would you be willing…?”

“To do that again?” Cullen turned so that he could kiss Dorian. “Absolutely.”

Dorian drew Cullen into a fierce embrace and kissed him again and again and again. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve this man who loved him and accepted him for who and what he was without ever demanding that he change or diminish himself but he decided he didn’t want to know. Cullen was his and would remain his for as long as he could keep the man.


	37. Fascination - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous over on tumblr gave me this prompt: Cullen starting to love magic thanks to Dorian's casual and sensible use of it, showing him the true meaning of "magic was made to serve man".
> 
> I got a little fluffy.

When he was eighteen and a brand new Templar with armour so shiny it almost squeaked, Cullen had been fascinated by magic. He suspected the training he’d done was supposed instil a suitable level of wariness in him but he’d just ended up being fascinated. A year later, he was nineteen, the Circle fell and he discovered just how terrible magic could be in the hands of people who chose to plumb its darkest depths. Another year gone, he was twenty and he hated magic. Hated it and feared it. And had that hate and fear stoked and allowed to fester in Kirkwall.

Now, ten years later, deep in the mountains in Skyhold, the Templar armour was long gone, leaving only headaches and aches and pains in its wake. The fear and anger were gone as well, first through the headstrong righteousness of Hawke and then the calm humour of Adaar, the wise thoughtfulness of Solas, the adamant control of Vivienne and… _Dorian_.

He hadn’t trusted the man at first. A Tevinter mage? How could he, even in the far better mindset that he possessed in Haven, trust a man like that? He was sure Dorian had known of his distrust. He wasn’t that good at hiding things and as he’d later learned, Tevinter was a place where being able to read people’s expressions and body language was skill by which you lived or died.

But then in the wake of Haven’s fall, he’d seen Dorian fight. He’d fought fiercely, passionately, fought for all of them, even those who had watched him with fear and suspicion, fought until he’d been on the edge of collapse. As they’d climbed the mountain, fleeing the Darkspawn Magister and his dragon, Dorian had been there, helping with a hand here, a shoulder there, a quip and a flirtatious remark to lift the spirits. 

And with magic. When they’d camped, weary and cold, Dorian had been there, lighting their campfires, ensuring they burned hot and clean throughout the night. When the Herald had been found, half-frozen and exhausted, it had been Dorian who had used his magic to warm the blankets they wrapped around the Vashoth mage. When the storm had caught them by surprise, it had been Dorian who had stood there and as each tent had been hastily pulled off a cart, used his magic to erect it and set it in place until Cullen could do little more than drag the shivering, exhausted mage into one of those tents before he collapsed.

Yes, it was Dorian’s casual use of magic that caught Cullen’s eye first. How he’d light candles in the evening with an absent flick of his fingers, never looking up from whatever book had claimed his attention this time. How he’d caught and held in place a piece of scaffolding one day when he was just passing by then waved off the thanks he’d been given with surprise and bafflement as though he couldn’t understand why he was being thanked for something so simple. He made it all look so effortless and… well, magical.

It all came to a head one afternoon when they adjourned their chess match to Dorian’s rooms because the weather had turned sour. They walked into the warm comfortable rooms Dorian had claimed, deep in conversation, and Dorian had lit the candles with a wave of his hand. Cullen had stuttered to a halt and watched in fascination then realised Dorian was watching him with equal interest.

“You always do that, Commander?” he said with equal amounts in intrigue and wariness. 

“Do what?” Cullen prevaricated, one hand rising to rub the back of his neck.

“Watch me so closely when I use magic,” Dorian replied. “What I can’t work out is why? At least, not anymore. You were suspicious of the _evil Tevinter mage_ at first but now… now I can’t quite put my finger on what’s behind your attention.”

“I, uh…” Cullen blushed and licked his lips. He fought to keep looking at Dorian. The man deserved that much at least. “I find it… the way you use magic… it’s…” He shook his head, struggling to find the words he wanted. “I’ve never seen anything like it. You make it look…”

“Normal? Natural? Easy?” Dorian suggested with just a hint of archness.

Cullen sighed. “Yes. Once… magic fascinated me.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked rather sheepish. “I received more than one lecture about watching the magic instead of the mage when I first became a Templar. But then… Kinloch fell and I…” 

He shuddered and turned away, hoping to keep his composure in place. When he turned back, Dorian was watching him with concern.

“Commander?”

Cullen gave him a weak smile. “Kinloch fell to blood mages and Abominations. I was held prisoner by them for weeks. Maybe longer. I don’t know how long. After that, I hated magic and I feared mages. I shouldn’t have been allowed near them afterwards but the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, Meredith, she wanted people like me, people who would hate mages. She… encouraged me, fed my hatred and fear.”

There was sorrow in Dorian’s eyes when he spoke, “I am sorry, Commander, for the failings of my fellow mages but… forgive me, you do not seem like a man who hates mages and fears magic.”

Cullen’s smile this time was a little more genuine. “Thank Hawke for that. He never let me get away with anything. And then… there’s Adaar and Solas and Vivienne and… and you.”

“Me?” Dorian said, one hand rising to touch his chest as he smiled faintly. “How have I changed your mind?”

“My mind had already been changed long before I met you,” Cullen said. “But you… watching you use magic… it… gave me back my fascination. You make it look so… beautiful. You _are_ beautiful.”

He blushed a brilliant crimson at that last sentence, the one that had just slipped out without thought, and when he saw the shock on Dorian’s face, he turned away.

“Forgive me, Dorian. I’ll just… go.”

“No!” 

Dorian darted forward and caught Cullen’s hand, halting him. Cullen looked around and saw that Dorian was blushing and his expression was one of wary, uncertain hope. It was a fragile look, one that Cullen wanted to brush his fingers over and make solid and whole.

“You…” Dorian began then he seemed to lose his courage and he looked away.

Cullen drew in a breath and with one shaking hand he reached out and ran his fingers along Dorian’s jawline, turning the man’s head to look at him.

“You are so beautiful I scarcely know how to _think_ around you,” he confessed. “Your intelligence is astonishing and if I could spend all my days listening to you talk, I would. And your magic…” He swallowed hard. “I want to lose myself in your magic.”

Dorian’s eyes went wide and he seemingly understood what that _meant_ for Cullen to say that. His eyes gleamed with unshed tears but as he licked his lips, Cullen could see that doubt still lingered in them.

“The things you say.” Dorian’s soft was soft and almost disbelieving but oh, the _hope_ , the delicate, tentative _hope_ , that lay underneath those words.

“I mean them.” Cullen cradled Dorian’s face in his hands. “I mean every word.”

The doubt lurking in Dorian’s eyes faded into a mere shadow as he smiled and if a hint of the mage’s usual mischief shaded that smile then Cullen was glad to see it. 

“The Inquisitor would tell you that feeding my ego is a dangerous thing to do.”

Cullen leaned forward and with his lips just brushing Dorian’s, he said, “I’m a warrior. We deal with danger all the time.” Then he closed the gap and kissed him.


	38. Hot - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous over on tumblr gave me the prompt: A. Fire, flames, or excessive heat for Cullrian. I went for excessive heat. Mostly because I had a similar reaction to this during a bit of a heatwave when I was in Malaysia and I nearly fainted straight into my Hainanese chicken rice. Good times.
> 
> Anyway, it’s hot in Tevinter and Cullen is from Fereldan. Sometimes the two don’t mix very well.

Tevinter was hot. Intellectually Cullen had known that. It had been said or implied in every book he’d read about the country and Dorian had warned him about it more than once. He hadn’t cared at the time. The only thing that had been important to him was Dorian and after the Inquisition ended, being with Dorian. So when they’d done their awkward little song and dance after the Inquisitor’s dramatic disbandment of the Inquisition and Dorian had finally obliquely suggested he _wanted_ Cullen to come with him, Tevinter’s prejudices be damned, Cullen hadn’t hesitated to say no.

He was regretting that a little right now. Not being with Dorian, he would _never_ regret being with Dorian. But not listening to the warnings about the heat. In fairness, even Dorian had been complaining about the unusual midsummer heat and humidity but while he’s hot, he was used to this sort of thing. Cullen found the weather _scorchingly_ hot and the humidity was utterly oppressive and earlier today he’d completely embarrassed himself by nearly fainting at the luncheon Maevaris was hosting for them and for the rest of the Lucerni and their allies.

“How are you feeling, Amatus?”

Cullen looked around. He was lying on a chaise in one of the guest rooms in Maevaris’ estate, stripped down to nothing but his smalls while Dorian supervised the army of servants who were preparing the cool bath the healer Maevaris had summoned had insisted on. He felt foolish but he also still felt hot and light-headed, like his skin was a size too small and he was about to burst. He also felt jittery and twitchy and unable to focus and he would be worried except the healer had seemed too calm for it to be something that wasn’t able to be fixed.

“Amatus?”

He looked up as a cool hand rested against his cheek to find Dorian perched on the chaise next to his hip, looking more worried than before if that was even possible. Cullen was captivated. Dorian looked more exotically beautiful than normal today with gold jewellery glinting in his hair and ears as well as on his fingers. He had some sort of glittery gold powder dusted across his cheekbones and on his eyelids. It all combined beautifully with his luxurious black and gold robes and Cullen felt his breath catch as he looked at his lover.

“Gorgeous.”

Dorian, however, looked more worried than anything else by his response and he glared at the servants as he snapped, “Hurry!”

Cullen ran his fingers over the glittery gold on Dorian’s cheeks. “Don’t yell at the servants, love,” he whispered. “They’re doing their best.”

Dorian gave a relieved sigh. “There’s my Commander. How are you feeling, Amatus? Any better?”

“A little. I’m sorry.”

Dorian gave a soft helpless laugh. “What could you possibly be apologising for, amica mea?”

Cullen frowned as his focus slipped for a moment. “This lunch… it was important.”

Dorian caressed his face. “Never more important than you.” He sighed. “I should have remembered you weren’t brought up to this sort of weather. Ferelden is such a cold, damp, drafty place.”

Cullen chuckled. “It brought us together.”

“Such romanticism,” Dorian scoffed but Cullen could see the blush underneath the glittery gold on his cheeks. “Very well. It’s not all bad.”

Cullen managed a soft chuckle then he sobered. “What did the healer say?”

“A cool bath now to bring your body temperature down,” Dorian replied. They’d long moved past trying to hide things from each other after a few near-disasters in the weeks after Cullen’s arrival in Tevinter. “Then you’re to drink lots of water and rest in the middle of the day when the heat is at its worst. At least until this hot spell passes.”

Cullen grimaced but the orders made sense. “I’m supposed to be helping you.”

“You will help me a great deal more if you’re not collapsing on floors and causing my heart to stop,” Dorian scolded. “I thought someone had poisoned you! Which would have been ghastly to deal with as everyone here is supposed to be a friend or at least an ally.”

Cullen’s response was interrupted by one of the servants informing them that the bath was ready. Dorian thanked him then got to his feet and held out a hand.

“Come. Let’s get you feeling a bit better, shall we?”

Cullen took the offered hand and was glad that he had. His legs felt weak and wobbly underneath him and he leaned heavily against Dorian as he helped him over to the bath. He somehow still managed a blush when Dorian helped him strip off his smalls but then he climbed into the bath and the cool water felt blissful against his overheated skin.

“Maker,” he breathed as he felt some sense and wellness return.

“Better?” Dorian asked from where he was kneeling next to the bath, completely unconcerned about the threat of water getting on his expensive clothes.

Cullen nodded. “Much better.”

He slid under the water for a moment and when he emerged, he wiped the water from his face with one hand then swiped it over his wet hair. Dorian made a disapproving noise but when he looked over, his lover seemed more amused than anything else.

“After all that work I did on your hair this morning.”

Cullen chuckled. “I’m not sure it needed that much work. I think you were just using it as an excuse to run your fingers through it.”

Dorian had a deep and abiding love for Cullen’s hair in its natural state. Cullen didn’t much care for the curls but it was difficult to keep it tamed here when the heat melted out anything he put into it. The products used in Tevinter were better but they left his hair lank and stringy at the end of the day. They’d yet to find a compromise that worked so in the meantime, his curls had made more of an appearance then normal, much to Dorian’s not-so-secret delight.

“Perhaps,” Dorian said smugly.

Cullen leaned back in the bath and rested his head on the edge. He sighed as the cool water seemed to leech out the lethargy, the shakiness and the confusion he’d been feeling. He still felt a little light-headed but even that was greatly reduced. He opened his eyes and titled his head so that he could look at his lover.

“You could join me?” he said, blushing just a little.

“Amatus,” Dorian said warningly though Cullen could see the temptation in his eyes.

He lifted one hand out of the water and held it out. “Someone needs to make sure I don’t drown in here.”

Dorian laughed and stood. “You are a terrible, terrible man, Cullen,” he said as he began removing his clothes.

“I’m truly awful,” Cullen said dryly, watching with interest as more of Dorian’s skin was revealed with every second.

“You are.” Dorian smirked then gestured for Cullen to move forward. He then got into the bath and Cullen leaned back against him. “Oh, this is lovely.”

“The bath or me?”

Dorian pressed a kiss to the side of his face. “Both, deliciae. Definitely both.”


	39. More Time - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another prompt from tumblr! This one was... from a prompt list I can't find at the moment but it was: a stolen kiss 
> 
> It's very fluffy. :D But it was fun to write. Dorian is absolutely not selfish and petty enough to pout because Cullen is busy. He isn’t. Well, maybe just a little. But kisses always make things better.

Dorian knew that Cullen’s job was important but in the past, the Commander had always managed to find time for them to do things together, even if that was just a game of chess or a meal. It had been easier after they’d finally acknowledged what they felt for each other, mostly because Dorian – after a somewhat shaky start – had discovered that Cullen _wanted_ him to stay the night, _wanted_ to wake up next to him in the morning. So Dorian had taken to spending his evenings in Cullen’s office unless he needed to reference several books, to the point where Cullen had arranged for a comfortable chair to be placed in his room as well as a few more candlesticks.

But now, with the attack on the Arbor Wilds imminent, Cullen was busier than he had ever been before. If he wasn’t reviewing reports and troop movements in his office, he was locked away in the War Room with Josephine and Leliana as they manoeuvred and managed their respective roles to prepare for the attack. It was often well after midnight before Cullen was finally able to collapse into bed and sleep, generally long after Dorian had given in and gone to bed. He usually woke up with Cullen wrapping himself around him but in the morning, he was up and gone in short order once he’d woken.

He was trying not to feel neglected. He really _wasn’t_ that petty and selfish. He missed their intimacy, he missed having Cullen’s attention and more to the point, he _didn’t_ miss Cullen being so stressed and tired. But this was important, this was a large part of what they’d been working towards for months now and he couldn’t begrudge Cullen doing his job.

He sighed as he stared down at the page of the book he was reading. Or attempting to read. He’d been on this page for the last hour now and he hadn’t taken in a single word. It wasn’t overly late but Cullen had hustled off to the War Room after dinner and hadn’t reappeared so he was steeling himself for a lonely evening and going to bed alone, only to wake up at some terrible hour of the morning when Cullen finally crawled in beside him. 

As such, he felt justified in being startled when the door of the office opened and Cullen hurried in. The man didn’t seem to notice he was there as he made a beeline for his desk and started shuffling through his paperwork. Dorian was quietly pleased that it didn’t take long for his lover to stop and turn to face him.

“Dorian!” He ran a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even see you.”

Dorian arched an eyebrow. “I feel I should be offended by that. I’m _very_ noticeable.”

Cullen chuckled and went back to sorting through his paperwork. “You are indeed.”

“Anything I can help with?” Dorian felt obliged to ask the question though he’d long ago given up on trying to understand Cullen’s organisational structure.

“Uh.” Cullen frowned then he pulled out a report and his face cleared. “No, thank you. Found it.”

He immediately headed for the door then hesitated with one hand on the door handle. He gave a small huff and hurried over, pressing a quick kiss to Dorian’s lips.

“I wish I had time for more,” he said, snatching another quick kiss before heading for the door. “Give me another couple of days, Dorian, then I’ll be all yours. For a day or two at least.”

He was out the door before Dorian could summon the wits for a reply so instead he brought his fingers up to touch his lips, a small smile growing on his face before he turned back to his book.


	40. Self-Control - Male Mage Trevelyan/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was asked to write some more for my older Inquisition, Drake Trevelyan, who can found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/7748522), [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/7761851) and [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/13309945). I was bored at work so it's a case of ask and ye shall receive.
> 
> Drake has self-control. He really does. Even in the face of the temptation that is Dorian Pavus.

Drake leaned against the balcony railing and decided that he was far too old to be mooning after pretty mages. He really was. Mooning after _anybody_ was the purview of the young and hormonal. Of course, there was a case to be argued that having actually _kissed_ Dorian, it was a bit late to be calling it _mooning_. Mooning implied pining and kissing was fairly indicative that the pining stage was over.

Of course, he still wasn’t entirely sure precisely where he stood with Dorian. The kissing had been very nice but the man hadn’t given him any indication he wanted to do more than kiss. It hadn’t really been the time, not so soon after their return from Redcliffe and the confrontation with Dorian’s father.

Drake scowled at that memory. There were many very choice words he’d wanted to have with Halward Pavus but he hadn’t wanted to undermine Dorian. Not that the man hadn’t done a marvellous job on his own. Dorian’s anger and passion had been quite magnificent and the revelation of how Tevinter viewed men like him and Dorian and of what Halward Pavus had intended to do certainly explained a lot of things about the way Dorian had acted and things he had said… or not said.

He would have liked to have spoken more about the matter with Dorian but… it wasn’t something he could push. He would have to wait until Dorian was willing to tell him freely and willingly. Which was why he had studiously avoided the tavern tonight. If Dorian was going to get drunk, Drake didn’t want to put either of them in a position where he might be tempted to ask questions that Dorian might not normally answer if he was sober.

“That’s a very pretty picture you make, all lonely and brooding.”

Drake would deny to his dying breath that he squeaked at the unexpected comment. Senior Enchanters do _not_ squeak. He whirled around and saw what was undeniably a very drunk Dorian weaving his way across his room towards him.

“Dorian!”

“It is I,” Dorian said in the grandiose manner that only the truly intoxicated can ever achieve. He kept approaching until he had Drake pinned against the balcony railing. “Hello.”

Drake drew in a deep breath at having the object of his affections pressed against him and then winced as that brought him the odour of whatever swill Dorian had been drinking for the past few hours.

“Dorian,” he began then he broke off with a choking sound as Dorian started kissing and nipping at his neck.

“Mmmm?” Dorian murmured as he worked his way along Drake’s jawline to nip at the skin below his ear.

Drake made a strangled sound and grabbed for Dorian’s hips. “You’re… ah! _Maker_ , Dorian. You’re very drunk.”

“Yes, I am,” Dorian purred into his ear and Drake’s knees buckled momentarily.

Drake had always prided himself on his excellent self-control. Because he did have excellent self-control. Look at all the pretty Templars he’d steadfastly stayed away from over the years. That alone spoke to his levels of self-control. Also his common sense. Another thing he prided himself on possessing in spades. However in a few short minutes, Dorian had shattered that self-control and common sense to almost non-existent levels.

“We can’t,” he said, rallying what remained of his forces and gripping Dorian’s hips tightly to stop the tiny distracting movements the other man had been making.

“Why not?” 

Dorian nipped at his chin then captured his lips in a searing kiss. Drake moaned into the kiss as a few more of his wits took their leave of him. The damn things didn’t even have the good grace to wave goodbye. He finally managed to pull away slightly, though that didn’t stop Dorian from shifting his attentions to his neck again.

“You’re drunk,” he protested half-heartedly.

“I know,” Dorian said smugly. “But don’t worry. My performance won’t be affected.”

Drake tried very hard not to be turned on by that notion and only partially succeeded. He was a very bad man who clearly needed to make some serious amends to Andraste. Or give her some serious thanks. It could honestly go either way right now. Then his common sense rallied and he began slowly walking them back into the room and towards his bed. Dorian, once he realised where they were going, seemed fully on board with this plan.

They were kissing again when they reached the bed and as such, they were unaware of their surroundings and fell onto the bed in a tangle of bodies and limbs. They shifted around and Dorian launched himself at Drake the moment they were both comfortable. Drake moaned again then he rolled them over and took control of the kiss. He slowed it down and gentled it, accompanying it with soft caresses, before shifting those soft, gentle kisses to Dorian’s cheeks and nose and eyelids, peppering them all over his face. He was just thinking that his plan might fail when Dorian sighed and went limp underneath him.

He pulled back and saw that the man was asleep and he gave a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that he didn’t want this with Dorian, it was that he wanted both of them to be sober and in their right minds. He was too old for the kind of drama having sex with a drunk person could bring. Of course, his libido was very, very unhappy with him right now but he could deal with that.

He sat up and shifted around so that he could pull both his own and Dorian’s boots off and then he dragged the blankets out from underneath the sleeping man. He lay down next to Dorian and pulled the blankets over both of them before shifting on his side and smiling at the other man.

“Tomorrow morning should be interesting,” he murmured before throwing an arm over Dorian’s chest, snuggling in close and closing his eyes.


	41. The Morning After - Male Mage Trevelyan/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This follows on from Chapter 39 and is the morning after. Wherein Drake is blunt, Dorian is nonplussed and matters are sorted.

When Drake woke, he became aware of three things – firstly, that he was not alone in his bed, secondly, he was draped half on top of his bed partner and thirdly, that said erstwhile bed partner was lying very, very still and stiff. Then the memories of the night before flooded back and he knew who he was cuddled up to. Normally he’d feel a little embarrassed about the cuddling thing but since it had ensured that Dorian didn’t creep away in the middle of the night and they could address what had happened, he was prepared to set that aside.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice gravelly from sleep.

He could feel Dorian tense up underneath him even further but he had a feeling that it wasn’t entirely awkwardness that was causing that reaction. He’d had complimentary comments about his ‘morning voice’ in the past.

“Erm. Good morning,” Dorian said after a long silence. He sounded a bit pained, which Drake assumed was from the hangover he must surely have right now, and very hesitant. 

Drake propped himself up so that his chin was resting on Dorian’s chest and he could see the other man’s face.

“I hope you realise from our fully dressed state that nothing happened last night.” He paused. “Well, other than you testing my self-control almost to its breaking point. You’re very tempting when you’re being all drunkenly affectionate, Dorian. Also, your mouth should be redefined as a sin in and of itself.”

As he spoke, he was quite entertained by the emotions that ran, screaming and waving placards, across Dorian’s face, though he did his best to hide that. Dorian could be very difficult to read at times so to see him so open was just lovely. And a privilege Drake didn’t intend to abuse. Admittedly he would have preferred the emotions he could see to all be positive but he could work with this.

“Ah. Yes. Well.” 

Dorian seemed rather nonplussed by Drake’s forthright speech and for once at a loss for words. And from this close, Drake could see a vulnerability in his eyes that he suspected he knew the reason for. From all that had been said in Redcliffe and back here in Skyhold, Drake suspected that Dorian had never been in a relationship that wasn’t very ephemeral and entirely about sex. He also suspected that Dorian was probably very, very good at the sex part but was a metaphorical babe in the woods when it came to the emotions behind a true relationship. 

He was also aware that, had he been the same age as Dorian, he’d likely be in much the same position and would undoubtedly have buggered this up already. Circles weren’t the best places for relationships but the Ostwick Circle had been gently run and the Templars inclined to look the other way as long as you were discreet and not abusing your authority. He wouldn’t say even at the age of forty-six that he had a great deal of experience but he had enough to be able to handle this sort of thing with a grace he would not have possessed in his twenties.

“I won’t say that I don’t want what you were offering last night,” he said gently, freeing one hand to brush his fingers along Dorian’s cheek. “But I’d much rather we were both sober for it.” He smiled warmly, invitingly even. “I’d also prefer not to rush. All the before parts of it are a lot of fun.”

He was close enough to see when Dorian blushed and he suspected that if he hadn’t been lying half on top of the man, Dorian would have found an excuse to run away.

“I can’t say I have much experience with that part of it.”

Drake gave him a serious look. “Do you want to?”

He could almost see the way Dorian shied away from that question before approaching it again warily.

“Do you?” Dorian asked, sounding almost suspicious.

“I do,” Drake said with a smile. “I like all of that. What’s more, I want all of that with you. I don’t want this to be quick meaningless sex that’s forgotten as soon as it’s done. I’d rather like it to be something considerably more.”

Dorian looked rather gobsmacked and yet, Drake could also see the hope and happiness lurking deep in his eyes.

“You’re, um, rather…”

“Blunt?” Drake suggested then he chuckled. “I suppose I am but this is a situation that’s fraught with a lot of peril, Dorian, and I didn’t want any misunderstandings. I’m too old for all that sort of melodrama.”

“You’re not that old,” Dorian said, starting to relax just a little.

“Forty-six,” Drake replied.

Dorian looked a little startled. “Oh. I’d picked late thirties.”

Drake’s smile was a little bitter. “I’ve aged well. So how much is it?”

“Sixteen years,” Dorian replied, not even pretending to misunderstand the question. He hesitated then pulled Drake into a warm, soft kiss. “Hardly anything. Certainly nothing I’m concerned about.”

Drake returned the kiss. “Good. Did you know Cullen once said to me that whether or not I was too old for you was something for you to decide, not me?”

Dorian looked startled then amused. “That’s rather excellent advice from the Commander. When did he tell you this? And how much stammering was involved?”

“Back in Haven when Leliana and Josephine plied me with excellent wine,” Drake said with amusement, both at Dorian’s questions and the memory itself. “And very little actually.”

“Remarkable.” Dorian arched an eyebrow. “I was wondering where the good wine was back then.”

Drake laughed and sat up. “Now, did you want something for that hangover?”

Dorian also sat up and he looked uncertain again. “I… should go?”

“Not if you don’t want to.” Drake cradled his face with one hand. “It’s still early and I hadn’t intended to get up right now. I just thought you might like something to deal with the headache I’m sure you have.”

“You… don’t mind if I’m seen leaving your rooms?”

Drake leaned in and kissed him. “Never.”

He got up and when he glanced back, he saw that Dorian was smiling softly. It was a good look on the man and Drake was determined to see it more often.


	42. Man of the Month - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> storybookhawke over on tumblr made this post: trashy cullrian au where dorian realizes that his “man of the month” male pinup calendar’s picture for June is his favorite cute barista/coworker/whatever Cullen
> 
> I don't think I need to add anything more to that summary other than this is an undefined modern AU.

Dorian had received the ‘Man of the Month’ calendar as his Secret Santa present six months ago at the work Christmas party. He’d known it had come from Lavellan, partly because she’d collapsed into giggles the minute she saw the look on his face when he unwrapped it but mostly because she was the only one he’d told about his preferences. He’d been slightly at a loss for words and possibly verging on panic but when no one at the party had reacted with anything other than laughter and innuendo-laden jokes, he’d found his voice again.

He’d taken the calendar home and hung it up in the kitchen in a move that was as much as display of defiance against all that he’d been taught at home as it was because that was the best place for it. He’d fretted over it for a couple of weeks, taking it down then putting it up again numerous times, before it had finally become a part of the landscape of his new home. He glanced at it, wrote in appointments and social functions and occasionally admired the curve of a bicep or a particularly well-defined abdomen. The men pictured in the calendar were all handsome and well-muscled, the photography was mostly black and white and they were all topless and posing in various ways. It somehow managed to be both artistic and voyeuristic at the same time.

The calendar was the last thing on his mind when he met the new Head of Security at Skyhold Enterprises in March. Cullen Rutherford was a delight. He was tall and nicely muscled without being overly built. He was calm and quietly spoken, unfailingly polite and according to Lavellan, almost too well qualified for the position he now held. And, as Dorian had quickly discovered, Cullen blushed beautifully when someone flirted with him. When _Dorian_ flirted with him. He blushed and ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck and gave these little shy smiles combined with a look of bafflement, as though he couldn’t imagine why Dorian was bothering with _him_ , that drove Dorian mad. 

It hadn’t taken long to discover that Cullen enjoyed playing chess as much as he did and they soon had a standing arrangement to meet after work most evenings at a local pub where playing board games of all descriptions was part of the place’s appeal. Their chess games were epic and often drew an audience, for both the game play and the trash talking that went with it. Which was the other reason why Dorian loved those chess games. When Cullen was deep into the game, he forgot to be nervous and self-conscious and became more relaxed and comfortable in his own skin. It was a lovely sight.

When June rolled around, Dorian didn’t even think twice before he flipped over to the next page of his calendar. In fact, he didn’t even glance at the photo as he was in a hurry to get to work. He was so busy at work that it took three days for him to actually look at the photo and then it took another few seconds for what he was seeing to register.

June in his ‘Man of the Month’ calendar was Cullen.

He blinked and stared at the photo a bit harder. He was sure he must be mistaken but no matter which way he looked at the picture, it didn’t change. The subject for June was indeed Cullen Rutherford.

He gaped a little as he continued to stare at it then he swallowed hard. He’d been fighting his attraction to Cullen since about two weeks after the man had started at Skyhold and this was threatening to destroy all his attempts at staving that attraction off. In the photo, Cullen was wearing just a pair of well-worn jeans, slung low on his hips. He had one hand propped on his hip while the other was rubbing the back of his neck in that oh-so-familiar gesture. But what made the photo so compelling was how relaxed he looked. He looked comfortable, confident and even just slightly amused.

Dorian made a small, low noise of undisguised want and then clapped his hand over his mouth, feeling slightly horrified. It wasn’t his reaction that drew that horror but the fact that Cullen was coming over tonight. They’d gotten into a discussion about food during their chess game the previous night and it had resulted in Dorian insisting on cooking some genuine Tevinter food for Cullen to prove to him that _spiced_ did not necessarily mean _spicy_. Cullen had wanted to see the process of preparing the food, which meant he was going to be here any moment and Dorian was in _no way_ prepared for that anymore.

Just he was thinking that, the doorbell rang. Dorian turned to stare at it in horror then realised that he had to go and open it. He couldn’t leave Cullen standing in the corridor. That was just rude. He made his way over to the door, feeling a bit like he was walking through treacle. He opened it and tried to smile. From the look on Cullen’s face, he didn’t do a very good job.

“Dorian? Are you alright?”

Dorian drew in a sharp breath and waved for Cullen to come in. “Of course! Come in, come in!” His voice sounded a little shrill and he winced.

Nevertheless, Cullen came in and then stood a little awkwardly in the living room as Dorian closed the door.

“Are you sure?” Cullen said worriedly. “You seem… odd.”

For the rest of his life, Dorian will never know what he _intended_ to say at that moment. Whatever it was, it wasn’t what emerged from his mouth. What did emerge was far more devastating.

“You’re _June_!” he yelped.

Cullen stared at him blankly and Dorian pointed a slightly shaking finger towards the calendar. Cullen looked over in that direction and then he blushed and, just as he was in the picture, he rubbed the back of his neck as he stared down at his shoes.

“Oh. Yes. That.” He looked up again and though he was still blushing furiously, there was a hint of a smirk about him that immediately drew Dorian out of his shock. “Do you like it?”

Dorian stared at him for a moment then he stalked over and practically crushed their mouths together. It wasn’t a graceful kiss or a particularly good one either at first but then Cullen’s hands came up and cradled his face as he took control of the kiss and gentled it just enough for it to change from desperate to very, very heated. Dorian wrapped his arms around Cullen’s waist and pulled him close and simply lost himself in the kiss.

When they finally parted, Cullen’s hands drifted down to wrap around his shoulders in a warm. “I guess that’s a yes,” he said with that smirk that both delighted and infuriated Dorian.

“How? _Why_?” Dorian said, still a little off-balance.

Cullen chuckled. “The photographer, Cassandra Pentaghast, is a good friend of mine. She ended up one short for the shoot after one of her models was a no show. So she called me and asked if I’d stand in.”

And that explained it, why Cullen looked so relaxed and even amused in the picture. He’d been posing for a friend, not a stranger. That made a great deal of sense.

“Are there any more pictures?” 

The question spilled out of Dorian’s mouth before he knew what he was going to say. He actually blushed this time and groaned and let his forehead drop down onto Cullen’s shoulder. He could both hear and feel Cullen’s laughter from that position and then he felt Cullen’s hand run through the hair on the back of his head.

“I’ve never seen you like this before,” Cullen said and Dorian might have taken umbrage except for the obvious fondness and affection in the man’s voice.

He raised his head. “Yes, well, I’ve spent the last three months trying not to think of you like… like _that_ because I didn’t think you were interested and then… you’re like _that_ and you let me kiss you and…” He scowled. “I am usually a great deal more suave than this.”

Cullen leaned in and kissed him. “Yes, you are but I like this version of you just as much.”

“You can’t just _say_ things like that,” Dorian complained. “I might never want to let you go.”

“I can’t say I’d complain about that at all,” Cullen replied with a smile that Dorian was sure should be illegal. He could only smile back as a warmth that he’d always been told was impossible filled him. “Now,” Cullen continued, “weren’t you offering me dinner tonight?”

Dorian slowly pulled away but then took Cullen’s hand and entwined their fingers as he led the way towards the kitchen. “Yes, I did.” He let his gaze become coy and heated and was rewarded by another flush coming to Cullen’s cheeks. “Though I think you’ll enjoy dessert just as much.”

Cullen gave a low laugh and reeled him into a brief but deep kiss. “I’m sure I will.”


	43. Even Hawkes Can Learn - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus, background Female Rogue Hawke/Fenris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this one requires a small amount of explanation. This was written for a friend of mine who has allowed me to publish it here. It’s about her Hawke and how much she buggers up going to Skyhold because her Hawke is obnoxious, slightly intolerant, hates admitting she’s wrong and likes making snap judgments about people and never changing her mind about them. Ever. Except when she has to because she has her wrongness rubbed in her face in such a way she can’t ignore it. Because, to paraphrase Guardians of the Galaxy, she’s an a-hole but she’s not 100% a dick.
> 
> So, we were talking about her Hawke coming to Skyhold and she kept saying things like, “My Hawke would do this!” or “My Hawke would do that!” and I kept pointing out how other people there might react to it and suggested a few things that made her laugh. Then she demanded I write it. So I did. And my friend snorted her drink up her nose when she read it. In a good way.
> 
> So here is her obnoxious Hawke at Skyhold, insulting and annoying people, being a dick to Cullen, getting her comeuppance and walking in on something that leaves her speechless. Then proving that even Hawkes can learn. 
> 
> The pairings are Cullrian and background Hawke/Fenris.

Hawke had been insufferable ever since she got to Skyhold. She could certainly be funny and engaging and charming when she wanted to be but it was also an undeniable fact that ever since she stepped into the fortress, she had been rubbing people the wrong way, especially those close to the Inquisitor.

It had started with her comments about – and then to – the Iron Bull. She clearly thought she was being funny but the comments had an undertone of malice was unmistakable. Bull acted like he hadn't heard the malice but no one believed it. The day a Ben-Hassrath didn't hear undertones in speech was the day the world ended. He ignored it anyway, putting on his best act of lazy amiability and comradery. The Chargers did not feel so benevolent and it soon became obvious that when Hawke came into the tavern, the Chargers found other places to be. They weren't subtle about it either.

Vivienne had been the next one she’d butted heads with and that had honestly amused everyone within hearing range. Like Bull, Vivienne refused to get riled up, no matter what Hawke said. Instead the Iron Lady was calm and biting and Hawke was reduced to sticking out her tongue as the First Enchanter sailed regally away. She seemed aware that while she might have won a couple of small battles in that verbal stoush, she had ultimately lost the war.

Her run in with Dorian had been particularly nasty and had brought both Leliana and Solas into the fray. It had started with accusations of blood magic and being a Magister come to enslave everyone at Skyhold and had only gotten worse from there. Dorian had been at his vicious best, especially after he'd been flanked by Leliana and Solas, who both made their approval of his responses plain. And then added a few choice comments of their own.

But it was her behaviour towards Cullen that brought matters to a head. To say she was rude was an understatement. At every opportunity, she threw his past behaviour into his face in the nastiest way possible. At every opportunity, she undermined him in front of anyone who was in the vicinity. She seemed to take an almost malicious delight in it and threw scorn and bile at him whenever she could.

Cullen, in response, was stoic. He'd tried talking to her at first but when it became plain that her eyes, ears and mind were closed and that she had created an image of him as a monster and had no intention of even entertaining the thought that he might have changed and grown and walked away from that past, while never failing to remember and acknowledge it so he never repeated it, he simply gave up. He endured her bile stoically then simply turned and walked away.

In the end, his friends chose to take action on his behalf.

Hawke was walking back to her room after an evening in the tavern with Varric. She'd noticed the barkeep glaring at her but she couldn't imagine why. She'd been buying ale regularly, though the tavern had been a little emptier than usual. Still that wouldn't have anything to do with her. Varric had gotten a funny expression on his face when she'd said that but she didn't think much of it. Varric often got that expression on his face when he was around her. 

She didn't see or hear anything before she suddenly found herself dragged into a dark corner with a knife to her throat. She clutched at the arm holding her and tried her usual tricks but her assailant seemed to know them all and how to counter them.

“If you will not learn then you will be taught,” an angry voice hissed in her ear. “Leave Cullen alone or you will find all your mistakes, all the mistakes of those you care about being aired in this place. And there are many, aren't there, Hawke? This is your first and last warning.”

The knife disappeared along with whoever had wielded it. Hawke rubbed her throat then scowled. As if some mystery person was going to stop her from doing what was right! Didn't these people know who Cullen was? She wasn't going to stop until she'd seen him stripped of his title and run out of the fortress. And maybe until she was asked to take his place. She’d be a much better Commander than him, maybe she didn't have any experience in the role but if Cullen was doing it, how hard could it be? The man was an idiot. She gathered herself together and flounced off down the corridor towards her rooms in a huff.

Things did not improve in the next several days for Hawke. She found her bed shortsheeted with an almost alarming regularity and she learned to check the bed for… visitors before she got in every night. A group of singers seemed to have decided that the spot under her window was the perfect place for their late night rehearsals and she could never seem to see exactly who they were. And when she asked around about them, she got funny looks and comments about how there was no singing group in Skyhold. Worse, her dreams took a decidedly dark and unpleasant turn as she was haunted in the night by despair and fear demons as well as a large shadowy wolf that made her shiver every time she felt it lurking in her dreams.

She wasn’t stupid though. She knew this had something to do with the shadowy figure who’d threatened her about Cullen. So she decided to do what she did best and take the druffalo by the horns. After a morning of feeling like someone or something was watching her _just_ out of sight and seeing that someone or something disappear every time she turned around, she stormed over to the Commander’s office and slammed the door open, intending to give him a piece of her mind.

And promptly froze to the spot.

Cullen _was_ in his office. That much at least was as she’d expected. She wasn’t expecting all his paperwork to be strewn on the floor or for him to be lying on top of his apparently _very_ sturdy desk. Naked. He was definitely very naked. And sweaty. And so was the Tevinter mage. He was naked and sweaty and sitting astride Cullen, riding his cock with a sort of enthusiasm that Hawke could only applaud. Or he had been. Now the two men were staring at her with shock and the sort of frustrated arousal that comes from being interrupted in the middle of sex.

Hawke continued to stare at Cullen.

Who was having sex.

In his office.

In the middle of the day.

With a mage.

A mage who was now looking decidedly irritated even as he began to rock his hips back and forth very slightly, an action that drew a soft moan from Cullen. She saw Cullen’s hands tighten briefly on the mage’s hips as he tried to still him. She couldn’t help but notice that the mage - Dorian, that was his name, she remembered now - had not lost any interest in the proceedings and for that matter, apparently neither had Cullen.

“Ex _cuse_ me,” Dorian said with acidic precision even as he continued his slow rocking motion. “It’s taken me _weeks_ to convince Cullen that we really ought to test the sturdiness of his desk and now you’re _ruining_ it.”

“Should have…” Cullen gasped and his hips bucked up. “Should have locked the door, love.”

Hawke noticed that Cullen was blushing and there was a fading look of mortification on his face but Dorian’s small inexorable movements of his hips seemed to be distracting him successfully. But it was the endearment he used that caught Hawke’s attention even more and she frowned.

Dorian was once again paying more attention to his lover than to her. “Yes, well, you’re very distracting, Amatus. Especially when you get all manly and sweep things off your desk.”

Now her eyes widened. Amatus? She knew that word. After several months of casting around for an endearment he felt comfortable using with her, Fenris had finally settled on that one, explaining that it was one of the few Tevinter endearments Danarius hadn’t ruined for him. He’d told her what it mean as well. Beloved.

“But… you… he…” She scowled. “He hates mages!”

Cullen opened his mouth to reply but Dorian immediately braced his hands on the man’s chest, rose up and then dropped down again. Cullen threw his head back and moaned and Dorian smirked at Hawke.

“Perhaps once he did – and maybe even not without cause - but not anymore,” the mage said as he repeated the action, his smirk widening as Cullen clearly lost all interest in anyone else in the room, namely Hawke. “You seem to be the only one who refuses to see that. Your loss. Now fuck off, Hawke. I have a Commander to debauch.”

For once, Hawke actually did as she was told. She retreated out of the office and closed the door behind her. The moment she did, she heard Cullen groan and then a breathless “Maker’s breath, Dorian. Do that again.”

Hawke stared at the door then, when the noises began to get louder and more impassioned, she beat a hasty retreat back to the stronghold and her room. A moment later, there was a knock on the door and Varric let himself in. He closed the door again and leaned against it.

“Cullen,” she said, sounding very nonplussed. “And Dorian.”

Varric nodded sagely. “Yeah, Curly and Sparkler have been together for a couple of months now. You should see their chess games. Talk about foreplay. They make the Chantry sisters blush every time.”

Hawke scowled. “What happened to Knight-Captain Mages Aren’t Like You Or I?”

Varric shrugged. “He grew up. Got over it. Pulled the stick out of his arse and replaced it with Dorian. I don’t know the details. I just know he’s changed a hell of a lot from the rather tortured Templar we met in Kirkwall.” He arched an eyebrow at Hawke. “You know he’s stopped taking lyrium?”

“What?” Hawke said with a frown. “How do you know?”

“He didn’t tell me if that’s what you’re asking,” Varric replied. “But I’ve seen it before so I know the signs and symptoms. He’s been at it ever since Cassandra hauled the pair of us out of Kirkwall. Had a hell of a time on the ship, though I’m pretty sure that wasn’t just the withdrawal.”

“But he hates mages,” Hawke protested, knowing she was repeating herself.

“He did.” Varric shrugged again. “Or maybe he just didn’t trust them. Gossip around Skyhold is he had a bad time at the hands of mages when the Fereldan Circle fell during the Blight.” He scratched his head. “Though annoyingly I can’t find anyone who can give me any details. Might make a good story.”

“Ask Cullen,” Hawke said with a sneer.

Varric held up his hands. “Hey, I’ve just got myself to the point where Curly likes me instead of simply tolerating me. I’d rather not ruin that right now. Besides if I upset Curly too much, I’ll have Sparkler after me and he can be damned creative.” He paused and gave Hawke a long look. “I’m pretty sure Sparkler knows exactly what happened to Curly in Fereldan _and_ what he did in Kirkwall. There was a couple of weeks there where they were both brooding rather dramatically all over the place then Curly was mysteriously absent for a day. When he reappeared the next day, he had some interesting marks on his neck and the kind of smirk a man wears when he’s had a lot of very good sex. Sparkler was the same.”

Hawke frowned and walked over to the window and looked out. She didn’t like admitting she was wrong. She hated it in fact. And yes, alright, that attitude had gotten her into trouble over the years and, yes, it had nearly blighted her relationship with Fenris once or twice. But this…

She sighed and leaned against the wall, rolling around until she could look at Varric. “You’re going to make me apologise to him, aren’t you?”

Varric relaxed and held up both hands. “Perish the thought. You always look constipated when you try to apologise, Hawke, and you make a hash of it. You’re better off doing what you always do. Just move past it and act like it never happened.”

Hawke nodded and chewed on the idea a bit more. She didn’t like admitting she was wrong but she also didn’t like being unfair to people. That’s how she’d ended up with Fenris _and_ Anders _and_ Merrill in her little group of friends. An almost inhuman level of tolerance for bickering had probably also helped.

“Might want to give Tiny a second chance as well,” Varric added. “Take it from me, who was there, he’s definitely _not_ like the Qunari we had in Kirkwall or anything like Tallis either. Well, except maybe he has her blind acceptance of the Qun but he’s pretty laid back about it.”

Hawke gave him an exasperated look. “And should I play nicely with good ol’ Viv as well?”

“The Iron Lady’s not that bad.” Varric chuckled. “I’m writing her into a new series of books and she was very pleased I was making her the villain. Loves it. But wants to proofread it so I get all the fashion and backstabbing right.” He grinned. “I’ll have to cut her into the profits but we’ll make a mint. And you should see the way she wraps Tiny around her little finger. I think she’s got plans for dressing him up and devastating the Orlesian court with him. He’s disturbingly enthusiastic about the idea.”

Hawke gave him a long look then she began grumbling under her breath and knocking her heel against the wall in an irritated manner. Varric didn’t say anything. He just let her mutter and mumble and growl and grumble until she finally sighed.

“Reckon I could leave Skyhold for a few days then come back and pretend I’ve just arrived for the first time?”

Varric laughed. “You know, Hawke, as a plan, that might just work.”


	44. Positively Evil - Male Mage Trevelyan/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for one of the responses to my '[I'm on holidays for the next week and a half so please prompt me](http://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/post/144643216853/as-of-3pm-today-i-started-a-week-and-a-half-of)' post over on tumblr. (Incidentally, this counts for everyone here as well.)
> 
> The prompt chosen was: oooh oooh oooh “I think you’ll be happy to know that I’m not wearing any underwear.” for cullrian, feverix, or drake/dorian it's up to you!
> 
> I went with Drake and Dorian. :D

The Masquerade Ball was an exercise in patience that Drake hasn’t had to endure since the last time his mother managed to finagle his appearance at one of her parties. Unfortunately he can’t use the same tactics he did that time. As much as he thought that the Orlesians wouldn’t bat an eyelid at catching him _in flagrante delicto_ – or at least they wouldn’t scream as loudly as his mother had – he didn’t think Dorian would be that thrilled about the idea. And he was absolutely, positively, one hundred percent certain that, no matter how much she liked him, Josephine would skin him alive, tan the hide and display it in her office.

So he was stuck doing the rounds, playing nicely with the Orlesian nobles who are all wary of his magic and trying to find an assassin. It was a little small and petty of him to laugh at Cullen’s discomfort but he couldn’t help it. The man was even more uncomfortable that he was. Honestly, he would have almost preferred having his arse groped than to get the evil eye for being a mage. Nonetheless, Drake arched an eyebrow at Leliana as he inclined his head towards Cullen, letting his eyes ask the question he didn’t want to voice. Leliana gave him a small nod in return and he relaxed as he walked away. She wouldn’t let things go too far.

He took the opportunity to indulge himself by wandering out into the garden where Dorian was standing. Unlike the last time he was out here, Dorian was speaking with someone this time – a masked man who seemed both furtive and flirtatious. He didn’t care about the former but the latter made him glare a little. He was still glaring at the man when Dorian caught sight of him. Amusement gleamed in the mage’s eyes for a moment before he gracefully ended the conversation and made his way over.

“Why, Inquisitor, you look positively dyspeptic. Are the Orlesians not agreeing with you? I told you to swallow, not chew.”

Drake snorted with laughter then rapidly composed himself. “I should make a joke about spitting here but it’s probably not Inquisitorial and I feel like if I do anything Josephine might disapprove of, she’s going to come swooping out from behind the arras to give me a clip round the ear.”

“She would never do anything so gauche,” Dorian replied. “She’d wait until afterwards.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” He raised an eyebrow. “So who was that man you were talking to?”

A coy smile curled Dorian’s lips. “Why? Were you jealous, Amatus?” he said in a low voice designed not to carry beyond the two of them.

“He was flirting.”

“All Orlesians flirt.” Dorian rolled his eyes. “And he was awful at it.”

“So why were you putting up with bad flirting?” Drake asked, feeling vaguely better for a moment then a bit exasperated at himself for being jealous. Not that Dorian seemed to mind though. In fact, if anything, he looked rather pleased.

“He was hinting that he had information about Corypheus,” Dorian replied. He chuckled and shook his head. “I suspect he was lying in the main but there was enough of a kernel there that I’ll let our good Spymaster know about him.”

Drake nodded then sighed. “Well, as much as I would like to stay, I’d better keep going.”

Dorian drew a little closer. “Then I will leave you with something with which to fortify yourself.” He leaned up and murmured into Drake’s ear, “I think you’ll be happy to know that I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Drake gave a jolt and just for a moment, one hand closed tightly around Dorian’s wrist. He then forced himself to let go and step back.

“That was positively evil of you, my love,” he said in a low tone. “And you will pay for it later.”

Dorian smirked. “I look forward to it, Amatus.” He then turned and walked back to the spot he’d staked out in the garden.


	45. Yes - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another one for my '[I'm on holidays for the next week and a half so please prompt me](http://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/post/144643216853/as-of-3pm-today-i-started-a-week-and-a-half-of)' post over on tumblr. (Incidentally, this counts for everyone here as well.)
> 
> The prompt was: 76.“I want you to have this.” from the hundred ways to say 'I love you' with Cullrian.

“I want you to have this.”

Cullen was sitting on the sofa in the main room of Dorian’s very elaborate ambassadorial apartment in the Winter Palace when Dorian spoke. His Mabari, whom he had yet to find a name for, had been resting his head on his knee and he was gently patting the dog, as much for his own peace of mind than anything else. Dorian had been in the bedroom packing and Cullen just… hadn’t been able to be in there anymore. The Inquisitor might have disbanded the Inquisition but there was still months’ worth of work to be done before Cullen would be free of his duties. And Dorian was returning to Tevinter, likely for good this time, to take up his family’s seat in the Magisterium. The Maker only knew when they would be able to see each other again, let alone whether it would be at all wise for Cullen to join him, given Tevinter’s particular prejudices.

He looked up at his lover and saw that he was holding something small and golden in his hand. Then he noticed that Dorian was uncharacteristically nervous, licking his lips and clenching his other hand in a fist, which he quickly whipped behind his back.

“What is it?”

Dorian drew in a breath and swallowed hard. He seemed to make some sort of decision and, much to Cullen’s surprise, he slowly lowered himself down on one knee. The Mabari nuzzled the side of the mage’s head then wandered off and collapsed down in front of the empty fireplace with a huff. Without the dog’s head to caress, Cullen flattened his hands on his legs, not knowing what else to do with them.

Dorian held out his hand and Cullen saw there was a golden ring sitting in his palm. Inset into the ring was a gleaming ruby and there was some sort of design etched into the rest of the ring.

“I know you have duties to the Inquisition until it can be finally unravelled and I must return to Tevinter.” Dorian licked his lips and stared down at the ring. “But I was hoping that when you are free of your responsibilities that you would… come to Tevinter and… and marry me. Stay with me.”

Dorian’s gaze flickered up for a moment and Cullen caught his breath at the emotions he saw there. Love, yes, that was there but there was also fear and Cullen felt he knew why. It had taken _months_ before Dorian had believed that Cullen was not going to leave him, even _more_ months before Dorian had truly believed that Cullen loved him and wanted everyone to know about that. And yet, despite all that, he also knew there was a part of Dorian that still wondered when Cullen was finally going to decide that Dorian wasn’t worth the trouble, that what he really wanted was a wife and children and a little farm somewhere in Ferelden.

“I know I’m asking a great deal,” Dorian said hurriedly. “Perhaps even too much. Tevinter is nothing like Ferelden and I know I joke about Ferelden being a backwater shanty town but the differences are far more profound than that and I fear that you will be miserable but I…” He drew in a breath then let it out slowly. “But I _must_ go and I… I would like to know that… that you will come. That I… I haven’t lost you.”

Cullen reached out with one shaking hand and cradled Dorian’s face. His lover immediately leaned into the touch and Cullen could see that he was expecting Cullen’s answer to be no. That even after all they had been through together, he expected this to be the step too far. But his answer was easier than he’d ever expected it to be whenever he’d dared to entertain thoughts of a future for the two of them.

“Yes.”

Dorian stared at him with wide eyes, made all the more emphatic due to the kohl lining them. He seemed utterly at a loss for words, as though that simple ‘yes’ was _never_ something he’d ever thought would be the answer to his question.

“Yes?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Cullen said. He reached to take the ring but Dorian batted his hand away then slid the ring onto his left hand himself.

The mage still seemed at a loss of words and truthfully Cullen didn’t really know what to say either. So instead of attempting to say anything, he took hold of Dorian’s hand and pulled him forward. His lover came willingly and smiled as he climbed into Cullen’s lap and into his waiting kiss. When they finally parted, Dorian seemed to have found his words.

“Are you sure?”

They weren’t the words Cullen had exactly wanted to hear. “I am, Dorian. Whatever Tevinter is – and whatever it isn’t – it’s where you will be. I can’t, in good conscience, shirk the last of my duties to the Inquisition but when I’m done, there is nowhere I’d rather be than with you.” He paused. “I just… This won’t cause trouble for you, will it?”

Dorian gave a soft laugh. “Not in comparison to the kind of trouble I’m _intending_ to cause. Once I get started, who I’m married to is going to be the _least_ of everyone’s concerns.” Cullen’s reply seemed to have given him a measure of confidence and he smirked. “Besides, it’s not as if I’m intending to seduce you on the floor of the Magisterium, as much as the idea appeals to me.”

“I think I’d prefer to avoid the Magisterium if at all possible,” Cullen said wryly. “I suspect we may have some fundamental disagreements.”

Dorian laughed as he slipped his hands underneath the collar of Cullen’s shirt. “A small part of me rather wishes you were still able to use your Templar abilities. I’d love to see the faces of the Magisters when you Silenced the lot of them.”

“I doubt the aftermath would be as amusing,” Cullen replied.

Dorian’s neck was enticing him and under the circumstances, he saw no reason to resist. He leaned in and started kissing that smooth warm skin. He got a satisfied hum in return and Dorian tilted his head back to allow him better access, completely distracted from the thread of the conversation.

“Such liberties you take, Commander,” Dorian said even as he started pulling at Cullen’s loose shirt.

“I’m engaged to be married,” Cullen murmured as he nipped and licked his way down Dorian’s neck. “I’m allowed to take such liberties.”

“Mmm. What other liberties are you allowed to take?”

Cullen pulled away just long enough to shuck off the shirt Dorian had still been pulling at. He gave Dorian’s shirt a tug and the mage willingly shed it. He ran his hands along Dorian’s shoulders and down his chest.

“I believe I’m allowed to fondle my fiancé whenever I wish.”

Dorian ran his hands through Cullen’s hair, trying to encourage the natural curl to come out. “And what parts of me are you planning on fondling, Amatus?”

Cullen was slowly going a lovely shade of red but he also didn’t stop or back down. Instead he slid one hand around Dorian’s waist while the other dipped into his breeches and wrapped around Dorian’s cock.

“How about here?”

Dorian gasped and bucked forward a little. “I, _oh_! I thoroughly approve,” he said breathlessly, his eyes fluttering closed as Cullen’s hand slowly began to move. “ _Cullen_.”

Cullen’s mouth returned to Dorian’s neck and he kissed and nipped at the skin there even as his hand continued to move. Dorian’s hands were tight on his shoulders and he was rocking into the slow strokes as small noises of pleasure and half-formed words spilled from his mouth. Cullen shifted his mouth to Dorian’s jaw and mouthed his way along until he could suck on the skin under his ear. He then took the earlobe in his mouth and bit down lightly as he tightened his grip and twisted in the way he knew Dorian loved. 

Dorian arched into the sudden sharp sting and cried out as Cullen drew his orgasm out of him so easily. He’d have been annoyed at that but they knew each other’s bodies well by now and what’s more they knew how to drive the other over the edge quickly. A useful skill when Cullen had so rarely had the opportunity for Dorian to take his time. 

He raised his head and drew Cullen into a deep, loving kiss. “My turn, Amatus. You aren’t the only one who can take liberties with his fiancé.”

Cullen smiled as Dorian slid down so that he was kneeling between his legs and then he arched back against the sofa and gave himself over to his fiancé’s ministrations.


	46. I Saw That - Male Mage Trevelyan/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another one for my 'I'm on holidays for the next week and a half so please prompt me' post over on tumblr. I'm still working my way through them! :D
> 
> The prompt was: “I saw that. You just checked me out.” but I altered the phrase slightly because I’m not sure Dorian would use the phrase ‘You just checked me out’.

“I saw that.”

“What’s that?” Drake raised an eyebrow as he watched Dorian move about the room. It was early in the morning and Dorian had just finished getting dressed in preparation to leaving. It troubled Drake that Dorian insisted on doing that, especially since he had the distinct impression that Dorian was _not_ truly a morning person but one who preferred lounging in bed, but he hadn’t quite figured out how to say it in a way that wouldn’t send his lover running. 

“You were watching me.”

Drake settled more comfortably in his bed and smiled. “Well, as much as I enjoy watching you take your clothes off, there is a certain aesthetic pleasure in watching you get dressed as well.” He paused then decided he might as well tackle this in his normal way. “You don’t have to leave, you know?”

Dorian, who had been caught between being discombobulated and pleased at Drake’s words, now froze and frowned at him.

“If I leave it any later, there’ll be more than just the guards in the hall.”

“So?”

The look of uncertainty on Dorian’s face made Drake want to leap out of bed and pull the man into a hug. And then use a large number of spells against every man who had battered Dorian’s self-esteem down to this point.

“You cannot possibly want everyone to know that you’re bedding a Tevinter mage?” Dorian asked with disbelief.

Drake sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled the sheet with him and made sure his lap was covered. He had no particular shame about being naked but now wasn’t exactly the time or place. He held out one hand and waited patiently until Dorian walked over and took it then he drew his lover in close so that he was standing between his knees. He smiled when Dorian’s hands almost automatically came to rest on his bare shoulders.

“For a start, I am not _bedding a Tevinter mage_ ,” Drake said firmly. “I am _in a relationship_ with you, Dorian Pavus. There is nothing to be ashamed of about that. Secondly, they called me Herald, they made me Inquisitor and everyone has accepted me as such. They don’t get to pass judgement on who I choose to have a relationship with. If they don’t like the fact that I am _madly_ in love with you, then that’s their problem. It’s not mine and it’s certainly not yours.”

Dorian was looking a little wide-eyed and stunned and there was a very pretty blush on his cheeks. His hands were fluttering over Drake’s shoulders and neck and up into his hair on occasion.

“I am not ashamed of being with you,” Drake said softly. “In fact, I’m very, very happy about it. I want everyone to know that I love you. I want to be able to do simple things like walk down to breakfast together.” He sighed and let his hands rest on Dorian’s waist, his thumbs make tiny caressing movements. “I know this is very new for you but…”

He was silenced by Dorian placing his fingers over his lips. He looked up and swallowed at the vulnerable look of wonderment on Dorian’s face.

“ _Amatus_ ,” Dorian breathed then he smiled and stepped back out of Drake’s grip. 

He kept his eyes on Drake’s as his hands went to the buckles and straps of his clothes. He quickly stripped off his clothes then climbed into Drake’s lap with only the thin sheet separating them.

“Say it again,” Dorian breathed, his hands framing Drake’s face.

Drake looked confused, unsure for a moment about what exactly had prompted this, and he ran through what he’d said in his mind. Then he drew in a breath and bit his lip before smiling.

“I love you.”

Dorian shuddered and rested his forehead against Drake’s. “No one has said that to me since I was a child and considering that was my mother, it doesn’t count.”

Drake wrapped his arms around his lover and pulled him close. “Then I will say it every day. Maybe even twice a day. Or more.”

Dorian tumbled them backwards onto the bed then propped himself over Drake with a soft smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”


	47. Warm - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was for a prompt given to me over on tumblr, which has taken me forever to write.
> 
> The prompt was: “You’re warm.” for Cullrian. And the rating would be Mature for this one. :D
> 
> Dorian is cold, Cullen is warm and sleepy morning sex is on offer.

Cullen woke slowly, aware that he was warm, comfortable and well-rested. It was an unusual enough situation for him that he was content to revel in it for a moment. He then became aware that Dorian was snugged in tightly against him, wrapped up in his embrace and pressed close along this front, his face tucked into the curve of his neck. He smiled to himself then sighed. As much as he wanted to stay right where he was, he couldn’t.

He shifted slightly, trying to extricate himself from Dorian but the man muttered something under his breath and snaked his arms around Cullen’s chest, holding on tightly. Cullen chuckled and ran a hand through Dorian’s hair.

“Dorian, I need to get up,” he murmured.

The mage made an indistinct sound but didn’t let go and Cullen wasn’t entirely sure he was actually awake. He contemplated sleeping in a little longer. He knew Cassandra wouldn’t say a word if he didn’t appear for their morning sparring session for once. In fact, she’d probably approve of the fact that he was resting more. But the longer he lay there, the more he thought of the paperwork piling up on his desk. If he wasn’t going to spar, he could at least get started on that. He tried to extract himself from Dorian’s embrace but again, the mage simply hung on a bit tighter, tight enough that Cullen _knew_ his lover was now awake.

He sighed, feeling more amused than anything else, and brushed a kiss against Dorian’s forehead. “Dorian, love, you need to let go.”

“No,” came the muffled, slightly sulky response.

“I need to get up.”

“No, you don’t.”

Cullen laughed softly. “Why not?”

“You’re _warm_ ,” was the smug, satisfied response. Then he got a disdainful sniff. “If you’re not going to fix that roof, you have to keep me warm.”

Cullen automatically glanced up at the hole in his roof and saw that snowflakes were drifting in, though they were melting long before they hit the floor. Perhaps it _was_ time to speak to Josephine and have the roof fixed, though it if the current state of affairs got him a very cuddly Dorian, well, there wasn’t really much incentive.

“I have to keep you warm, do I?” he said with quiet amusement.

“Mmhmm,” Dorian said, nuzzling into Cullen’s neck. 

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

He shivered when he felt Dorian’s lips against the skin of his neck, all warm and wet. 

“I’m sure you can come up with something,” Dorian murmured, his smile obvious in his voice as his lips wandered up Cullen’s neck and towards his ear.

Cullen made a small noise of pleasure then gently rolled them so that Dorian was flat on his back. He nudged Dorian’s legs apart and settled between them, propped up on his arms as his hands framed his lover’s head, his fingers sliding into Dorian’s hair. 

“How’s this?” he said, smiling down at the sleepily pleased look on his lover’s face.

“A good start.” Dorian pulled him down into a kiss and rolled his hips up against him. “Mmm. A _very_ good start,” he said breathlessly.

Cullen laughed and began to slowly rut against his lover, something he could tell Dorian enthusiastically approved of when his hands slid down to clutch at Cullen’s arse and encourage his movements.

“Oh, this is very good,” Dorian said. His voice was a little slurred and he moaned when Cullen turned his attention to his neck, kissing and nipping his way down to his collarbone before returning and capturing his lips in a soft, messy kiss.

They continued the slow roll of their hips against each other as they kissed and let the heat grow between them until Dorian gave a soft cry and spilled over between them. The look of sheer pleasure on Dorian’s face was enough to send Cullen over the edge and he moaned and buried his face in Dorian’s neck as he added to the mess. Finally he raised his head and kissed Dorian again, low and soft and quietly fervent.

“And are you warm now?” he asked when they parted, a small smirk pulling at his lips.

Dorian chuckled. “Yes, I am. But I am also very messy.”

Cullen arched an eyebrow. “That’s true. I suppose I’ll have to do something about that too.”

Dorian’s eyes widened as Cullen began to kiss his way down his chest then as his lover’s warm tongue lapped at the spend smeared on his stomach, he could only laugh and hope this morning would never end.


	48. Indolent - Male Mage Trevelyan/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was for the prompt: "Oh, don’t mind me. Just enjoying the view.” and is based on the prompt and also on a piece of artwork ~~that I cannot for the life of me find, which is driving me mad. It’s a coloured piece of Dorian, sprawled nude on some pillows, with books around him and it’s a little NSFW.~~ Found it! [This piece of artwork!](http://golden-lair.tumblr.com/post/139501218439/comfort-coloured-version-v2-by-tovarasnightroad)
> 
> Um, so this is NSFW and features Dorian and my Inquisitor Drake Trevelyan. Skyhold is cold thus the Inquisitor is cold. Dorian very quickly makes him very, very hot.

As impressive as Skyhold was, there were times that Drake did not like the place one bit. The depths of winter with a storm howling around, blowing frigid air into the War Room? At moments like those, Skyhold was not his favourite place at all. While the wind didn’t actually disturb anything on the table, it did make the place achingly cold and when he finally managed to escape, his bones were aching and he was in no mood to deal with anything or anyone. So rather than take his sour mood out on people who didn’t deserve it, he decided he would head up to his rooms and make use of the rather large bathtub Josephine had obtained for him. 

The stairway leading to his rooms was also cold, though at least it was protected from any breezes, and his knees were highly unimpressed by the many stairs and thus when he reached his room, he was muttering curses under his breath, curses that died the moment he saw the tableau in his room.

Dorian was there. He’d closed the windows and set a fire in the fireplace and the room was toasty and warm. He’d then somehow found a pile of pillows, large and small, and had clearly been lounging around on them, reading. The past tense was the key point there because Dorian was _definitely_ not reading now. Right now, his clothes had been discarded to one side and he was sprawled on the pillows with a sort of pleasured abandon that took Drake’s breath away. One arm was thrown over his head and the other was reaching down, his hand hidden behind the leg that was propped up but from the slow way it was moving, Drake knew exactly what Dorian was doing.

He must have made some sort of sound because Dorian lazily turned his head and then smiled slowly at him. “Amatus,” he said in a low purr, his hand still moving in that slow way. 

Drake smiled, his aches and pains slipping away in the warmth generated by the temperate of the room and the sight in front of him. “Oh, don’t mind me. Just enjoying the view.”

Dorian gave a soft sensual chuckle and shifted his hips slightly. He let his upraised knee fall down to the side, putting himself on lewd display as he slowly stroked his cock. “Were you just planning on watching?”

Drake licked his lips and leaned against the end of the balustrade. “Yep.”

Dorian laughed again, low and dark, and he arched his back, spreading his legs into a more comfortable position. His hand never stopped moving and never changed its pace and he was clearly enjoying having the weight of Drake’s eyes on him. He brought the hand that was thrown over his head down and ran it along his chest and stomach before returning to pinch and flick at his nipples.

Drake made a low noise as he watched this exquisite torture. He wanted to go over, to kiss his lover, spread him wide and sink into his warm body but this… this indolent, _decadent_ display was enrapturing and kept him where he was. He was achingly hard, his cock throbbing almost painfully, and he wanted nothing more than to unlace his breeches and stroke himself in time with Dorian. He didn’t though. He kept his hands firmly clenched at his side as he watched.

Finally Dorian arched and writhed, throwing his head back and groaning as he lost himself in the pleasure of his orgasm, his cock spurting again and again in time with his slow strokes. When he was done, he slowly pulled his hand away and stretched both arms up over his head, undulating his entire body as he hummed with satisfaction. He then turned his sultry gaze onto Drake and licked his lips before smirking. He seemed to know exactly what sort of picture he presented, sprawled naked on the pillows, his softened cock resting wetly against his thigh, his spend spattered on his stomach and chest, his bottom lip red and wet and swollen where he had bitten on it as he came.

“ _Dorian_ ,” Drake said hoarsely.

Dorian stretched out one hand towards him. “Come here, Amatus,” he purred. 

Drake finally broke out of his stasis and stumbled forward, stripping off his clothes as he went. He almost tripped when he tried to both walk and pull of his boots but by the time he got to Dorian, he was as naked as his lover. He dropped down onto the pillows beside the other man and captured him lips in a hard and wanting kiss as he ran his hand through the mess on Dorian’s stomach. He pulled away from the kiss and raised his hand, keeping his eyes on Dorian’s as he licked his come from his fingers. He was rewarded by Dorian’s pupils dilating as he sucked in a sharp breath then he was pulled down into another kiss.

Drake slid his hands along Dorian’s chest then up his arms until he could catch hold of his hands and pull them up over his head. He pulled away from the kiss and smiled down at his lover.

“You are utterly beautiful and completely shameless,” he said with warm affection and amusement. 

As he watched, Dorian blushed and his gaze flickered away. Drake gave his hands a squeeze and his smile widened with Dorian looked back at him rather shyly. For all that he preened and paraded around like a peacock, when he was confronted with genuine, loving compliments, it always seemed like Dorian could barely believe them.

“The things you say,” Dorian finally managed to say.

“It’s true,” Drake replied, determined to make sure this man knew how remarkable he truly was. “I may never recover from that display.”

Dorian blushed again but this time it came with a smirk and a look of delight deep in his eyes. He rolled his hips against Drake and the older man hissed as the brief pressure on his erection sent a wave of arousal through him.

“You seem to be doing alright,” Dorian teased. “Are you going to do something with that?”

Drake growled and shifted to lie on top of his lover. “Absolutely.”


	49. What Happened Last Night - Erm, check the description for this one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the sort of thing that happens when you prompt me. The prompt I was given was: "I wish you would write a story where Varric, Dorian, Blackwall and Cullen wake up, naked, in bed together, suffering monstrous hangovers, and no one has any ideas what happened last night. Sera comes in and cackles at them. Vivienne is not speaking to any of them. The Inquisitor is in the infirmary sleeping off a concussion from where zie fell of zir chair laughing and hit zir head. Iron Bull and Cole are confused. Punchline is up to you."
> 
> I gave the greatest whoop of laughter when I read this then I smeared light angst all over it. I also began the weirdest OT3 (possibly OT4 depending on which way Varric goes) I've ever written.
> 
> So, yeah, I think the prompt sums it up pretty well.

Cullen slowly began to swim back towards consciousness and immediately wished he hadn’t. His head hurt in a way that it hadn’t since the very earliest days of his withdrawal from lyrium and since he knew that he hadn’t started taking lyrium again and then stopped, he had to hark back to his days as a trainee and that really ill-advised trip to the local village inn to find some sort of explanation for it. Either that or he’d been hit on the head by something. 

As he tried to decide whether he should attempt to open his eyes or just give it all up as a bad idea and try and sleep again, he became aware that he was not alone. He was _really_ not alone. There was someone snuggled up in his arms, curled up against his chest, breathing softly into his neck. There was also someone plastered against his back, someone who was hairy and snoring lightly. And that there was a heavy weight on his legs that also seemed to be snoring.

He also became aware that he was very, very naked.

That was enough to make the idea of opening his eyes a great deal more attractive, though the light streaming in from the hole in the roof made him groan. He peered upwards and saw that the hole was very familiar so they were in his room. He then looked down and saw… Dorian. A very naked Dorian who was snuggled in against his front. A glance over his shoulder told him that the naked hairy body pressed up against his back was _Blackwall_ of all people. And the person weighting down his legs was an equally naked Varric.

Somehow he managed to not panic. Somehow he managed to lie very still and not shout. Both things his head would undoubtedly appreciate. Instead he wracked his brains, trying to figure how he had ended up naked in bed with Dorian, Blackwall and Varric.

As he was doing that, Dorian started to moving, groaning piteously and shifting against him in a way that might have embarrassed him severely if he were any less hungover. He knew the moment Dorian actually woke up enough to realise where he was when the man went very, very still then slowly raised his head. 

Dorian looked as mortified and as mystified as Cullen felt. Which was something of a relief because he’d had a moment to think that this might be some sort of elaborate practical joke. He wasn’t entirely ruling that possibility out but he was now at least reasonably sure that Dorian had no part in it.

“Well,” Dorian murmured and both he and Cullen winced even at that low tone. Dorian soldiered on anyway. “This is terribly pleasant and all but I don’t suppose you know…?”

“No,” Cullen said then he frowned. “This is… you mean…?” He winced at the querulous note in his own voice and gave up attempting to speak for the moment.

“I can’t say I haven’t thought about this,” Dorian admitted, his cheeks pink but a look of determination on his face anyway.

Before Cullen could reply, there was a low groan from the heavy weight on his legs. “Can you two save the declarations of adoration for some other time? My head is going to explode.”

Dorian’s eyes widened almost comically then he winced. He drew in a breath then raised his head just enough to look around before lowering it again and resting his forehead against Cullen’s chest.

“Why are we in bed with Varric and Blackwall?” he asked, his voice a little muffled. “Naked.”

Cullen and Varric were saved from any immediate replies by a low stream of pained cursing from the last occupant of the bed that stopped abruptly as the man became aware of where he was, who he was cuddled up to and his current state of attire. Or lack of attire as the case may be.

“Right,” came the somewhat strangled comment from Blackwall.

A hand waving from the bottom of the bed got their attention. Varric hadn’t yet moved other than the waving hand. “Does anyone remember _anything_ about last night?”

“No,” Cullen said. “The last thing I remember is Cassandra dragging me over to the Herald’s Rest to have dinner with her.”

“I don’t even remember leaving the barn,” Blackwall rumbled. 

Cullen couldn’t help but notice the man hadn’t shifted from where he was pressed tight against his back and he wasn’t sure if he should mention that or not. He eventually decided not to. In fact, he decided it would be a good idea not to think about it at all. Blackwall was a warm, broad and strangely comforting presence against his back right now.

“I remember going to the tavern but not until it was very late,” Dorian added. He didn’t seem inclined to move either.

“And I remember you and the Seeker coming in, Curly, but not much after that,” Varric concluded.

“Right,” Cullen said then he decided to ask the question that was the obvious druffalo in the room. “Did we…?”

A somewhat awkward silence settled over them all as they pondered that question. Finally Dorian cleared his throat.

“Well, speaking as someone with experience in these matters, I certainly don’t _feel_ like we did… anything.”

There were some awkward mutterings and grunts of agreement with that and Cullen felt relieved. Not because the idea that something had happened was an unpleasant one, just because he couldn’t remember. Then he had to pause while he readjusted his worldview because he apparently wasn’t terribly perturbed by the idea he might have had sex with a man… or possibly more than one. It was… an adjustment.

Another awkward silence fell in the room and Cullen got the impression he wasn’t the only one making that mental adjustment. He also got the impression he wasn’t the only one studiously avoiding mentioning the fact that none of them were moving.

A wild whooping cackle made them all jump and then wince and groan then they looked up to see Sera peering in through the hole in the roof at them. Her face was alight with an almost unholy amount of glee.

“Andraste’s arse!” she bellowed, making the four men cringe. “Four arses! Hah!”

She disappeared again, leaving a shattered silence in her wake. 

“Well, I…” Cullen cleared his throat. “I suppose we should, um… get up.”

“Gonna have to face the music sometime,” Varric groaned. “Maker’s balls, I think my head is going to explode.”

“If we’re going to get up, you’re going to have to move first, Varric,” Dorian said, a faint line of regret in his voice that Cullen wasn’t sure what to make of. 

Varric groaned and grumbled before finally rolling off their legs. “Don’t sleep on other people’s legs, kids,” he said owlishly as he stood at the end of the bed, looking around and scratching his chest. “It’s murder on your back.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dorian said. He grimaced as he reluctantly pulled away. Cullen was equally reluctant to let him go and they exchanged a shy glance before the mage crawled out of the bed.

Cullen found himself just as reluctant to pull away from the solid warmth against his back and when he forced himself to move, the arm Blackwall had slung over his waist tightened just a fraction before being removed. He decided not to think about that too much as he climbed out of bed and started looking around for his clothes.

They dressed in a strange silence and one by one made their way down to Cullen’s office. They emerged onto the walkway that lead to the main building, all of them wincing and cursing at the light. When they got back inside, it was to find Solas was not in his usual place and further on, Vivienne was standing on her balcony overlooking the hall. When she caught sight of them, the glare she levelled at them was stern and pointed then she turned away in obvious disdain.

“Right,” Varric muttered. “What say we adjourn to the tavern and see if Tiny can tell us what happened?”

The others agreed and they made their way gingerly back out into the sun and over to the tavern. The dim light inside was a relief though the smell of stale ale turned their stomachs. They crept over to where Bull was lounging and were not at all comforted when he gave them a look of confusion.

“What did you lot do last night?”

The four of them exchanged looks. “What do you mean?” Dorian asked carefully. “We were rather hoping you could tell us.”

Bull shrugged. “No idea. That cute little red-haired maid gave me the eye so I headed upstairs and the boys apparently took off not along afterwards. Came down this morning to find out the Boss was in with the healers.”

“What!” Cullen yelped then he winced and pressed one hand against his head. “What happened?” he said in a much quieter tone.

“Concussion,” Bull said succinctly, looking amused at the hangdog mannerisms. “She fell off a chair or something.”

“I don’t suppose you can tell us what we were doing _before_ the maid lured you upstairs?” Varric said dryly.

“Drinking with the Boss,” Bull said, now looking openly amused. “You don’t remember?”

“No such luck,” Varric replied. “Were we doing anything else other than drinking?”

“Seemed to be a few tall tales being told,” Bull said. He looked curious as well as amused now. “Why?”

The four of them exchanged glances. “Nevermind,” Varric said.

“Warm and safe, solid and secure. Why would it be wrong?”

Only experience kept them from jumping at Cole’s sudden appearance and they were all a bit relieved about that, given the state of their heads. This time however, they all very firmly kept their eyes off each other as Cole’s words raised thoughts none of them really wanted to address.

“Kid,” Varric said very gently. “Now really isn’t the time.”

“Okay,” Cole said, still looking confused. “But it’s really alright, Varric. They want it too.”

The atmosphere became suddenly very strained and awkward and Cullen cleared his throat.

“Cassandra,” he said, sounding slightly strangled. “She… she might know.”

Bull chuckled, eyeing them all with interest. “She was still there when I left and I heard she’s the one who carried the Boss to the healers.”

Cullen turned on his heel and led the way out of the tavern. Cassandra was where she spent most of her time, practicing against the dummies, but she stopped and straightened when they approached. Cullen noticed she was looking at them with faint disapproval and… was that very restrained amusement?

“Cullen,” she said with a small nod. “Blackwall. Dorian.” She hesitated for a moment then said dryly, “Varric.”

“Cassandra…” Cullen trailed off, not quite sure how to ask about what happened the previous night. “I… the Inquisitor?”

“Will be fine,” Cassandra said with an exasperated sigh.

“What… happened to her?” Cullen asked tentatively.

Cassandra frowned. “You don’t remember?”

Cullen winced. “I don’t remember much about last night at all.”

He wasn’t mistaken. That was _definitely_ very restrained amusement that was gleaming in Cassandra’s eyes. She looked at the others and the amusement became less restrained and more obvious as she realised that _none_ of them remembered what had happened.

“She fell off her chair,” Cassandra said. “She was very drunk and lost control while she was laughing and she fell off and struck her head on another chair.”

Dorian came up beside Cullen, looking slightly dyspeptic. Cullen couldn’t tell if it was the hangover or the news causing that expression.

“I don’t suppose you’d care tell us _what_ she was laughing at, my dearest Cassandra?”

Cassandra laughed then. Actually _laughed_ and shook her head at them. “I think you already know, Dorian. She was laughing at you four. You were having what she described as a ‘pity party’. She suggested that if you were all so lonely, you should shuffle off to bed together and then started laughing at the looks on your faces. That was when she fell off her chair and I took her to the healers. When I got back, you were all gone.”

She stopped then and stared at the four of them and the expressions on their faces now. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

“You mean…?”

Cullen groaned and covered his face with one hand. Now that she had described what had happened, a few rather vague memories flitted across his mind.

“Thank you, Seeker,” Varric said through gritted teeth. He looked up at the others. “Let’s… go.”

By unspoken agreement, they headed straight back to Cullen’s office, leaving a chortling Cassandra behind. Once inside the room, Cullen moved around and firmly closed and locked the doors. He was in no mood to deal with the runners and scouts today.

“Right. So,” Dorian said, looking very nonplussed. “We were clearly very drunk and bemoaning our non-existent love lives for some reason and on the equally drunken suggestion of the Inquisitor, we decided to…”

“Hop into bed together,” Varric finished for him.

“Just as well the Inquisitor didn’t suggest that we leap off the battlements into a snow bank,” Blackwall rumbled. “Sounds like we might have done precisely that.”

Cullen rubbed his face with one hand. “Why does this sound like something Sera had a hand in?”

“Because she clearly wasn’t surprised to find us all naked in bed together?” Varric suggested dryly.

“Right,” Cullen replied. He leaned against his desk, still rubbing his forehead. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to think too hard about what had happened. Drunk or not, he’d slept better the previous night than he could remember since… well, since before Kinloch happened. And he’d tried a few times to use drink to keep the nightmares away. It had never worked. But last night… well, if he remembered anything about it, it was that he’d felt safe and warm and secure.

“So what do we do now?” Dorian asked in an uncharacteristically hesitant voice. “Forget it ever happened?”

“That’s… probably the wisest course of action,” Blackwall said rather stiffly.

“Uh, yeah,” Varric added, sounding reluctant. “You’re… probably right.”

Cullen nodded though he couldn’t bring himself to look at the others. He knew he wasn’t that good at keeping his expression neutral and he didn’t want the others to see how much he really disliked that idea.

“Of course,” Dorian said in a small, defeated voice that Cullen _hated_. “I’ll just… go then.”

Before anyone could say anything, Dorian had unlocked one of the doors and disappeared through it. Blackwall and Varric stood there awkwardly for a moment then they too left. Cullen leaned against his desk and rubbed at his chest. It felt sore and he didn’t want to examine why right now. Instead he turned to the piles of work on his desk and tried not to think about how cold and empty his bed would be tonight.


	50. Out Of Sorts - Check the summary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so you know how I wrote that thing in the last chapter that was either going to end up as an OT4 with Blackwall, Cullen, Dorian and Varric or possibly an OT3? And you know how I ended it rather angstily? Well, here’s the second part of it.
> 
> Firstly, this gets a bit NSFW towards the end. Secondly, in this part, Cullen is out of sorts, the Inquisitor meddles because she’s so done with all four of them, Varric makes a decision, Dorian panics and Cullen and Blackwall come to an understanding of sorts.

Cullen had been feeling out of sorts for days. He knew it, Leliana and Josephine knew it, everyone who’d come into contact with him knew it. He’d been feeling out of sorts ever since that morning, the morning he’d woken up feeling warm and safe and surrounded by the last people he’d ever expected to find himself naked in a bed with. He’d been doing his best to put it out of his mind but from the looks he’d been getting from any number of people, he hadn’t been succeeding very well.

Cassandra had been giving him some intent looks, all narrowed eyes and speculation, and as a result he’d been going out of his way to avoid her. Avoiding Blackwall, Dorian and Varric was a far easier task given Lavellan had taken all three with her on her trip to Emprise du Lyon. He wasn’t exactly sure why. They weren’t her usual team and from the few times he’d seen Solas on his rare trips into the main building, the elven mage was feeling fairly disgruntled about being left behind. Cullen would sympathise but that would require examining his feelings and that was something he still hadn’t quite had the courage to do.

When Cassandra walked into his office late that evening with the air of a woman storming the ramparts, he would have cringed but he’d known this was inevitable. Cassandra wasn’t really one to leave well enough alone. So he sighed and nodded to her as she thumped a bottle of wine down on his desk then went from door to door, closing and locking them. He got up and found a couple of goblets that were sitting on one of the shelves then poured the wine. Cassandra came back and took the goblet that was offered to her. She sat down opposite him and for a while they simply sat there and drank their wine.

“So,” she finally said.

“So,” he replied, his tone neutral and unhelpful.

She looked unimpressed. “So. Dorian and Blackwall and… Varric.”

He noted her slight hesitation from saying Varric’s name but ignored it in favour of slumping down in his chair and staring at the wine in his goblet.

“What about them?”

“You slept with them.”

He choked a little on his wine. “No!” He sighed. “I… we _slept_. We didn’t do anything else.”

“Did you want to?” 

Cullen slumped a little further and finished the wine in his goblet. He poured some more and held the bottle out to Cassandra. She shook her head and he put the bottle back on his desk.

“What does it matter?” he said, when it became obvious Cassandra was waiting for an answer.

“You have been acting like a bear with a sore head ever since that day,” Cassandra said archly. “So I think it matters a great deal.”

“Well, it _doesn’t_ ,” Cullen snapped. “It doesn’t matter what I want because none of them want it.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “But if they did, would you want it?”

Cullen sighed and took a drink. “I haven’t thought about it.” At her sceptical look, he gave a huff. “I _haven’t_. There’s no point. They made their feelings quite plain that day.” He ran a hand down his face. “I’ll… get over it.”

Cassandra gave him a long look then sighed and picked up the bottle and refilled her goblet. No more words were said and when they finished the bottle, Cassandra left and Cullen looked at his paperwork then shook his head and climbed up the ladder to get some sleep in his cold empty bed.

When the Inquisitor and her party returned three weeks later, Cullen was hard at work. Work had become his haven in the time the Inquisitor had been away as unfortunately he had not yet found a way to ‘get over it’. Burying himself in paperwork had become something of a panacea. Not one that worked very well but it was enough.

The first he knew of the Inquisitor’s return was the summons to the War Room and he did his best to gather his composure so that he wouldn’t growl at any of them. Thankfully all Lavellan wanted to talk about was the Emprise and what was going on there and he was able to concentrate on that successfully enough. It was only at the end of the meeting, as he leaned over the map and reorganised a few of his troop markers, that he realised that Leliana and Josephine had left but Lavellan was still there. 

He looked with surprise. “Inquisitor?”

“Look…” She sighed. “I’m not really one to interfere with other people’s personal lives but whatever is going on between you and Dorian and Blackwall and Varric needs to be sorted out. The sooner, the better.”

With that she turned on one heel and walked out of the room. Cullen watched her go then leaned against the table and let his head drop. He should have known this wasn’t going to be easy. When had anything in his life _ever_ been easy. He sighed and finished what he needed to do and then made his way back to his office. Lavellan might want him to sort this out but he honestly had no idea how to even _begin_ doing so.

Despite that, he was somehow unsurprised to find Blackwall, Dorian and Varric in his office when he got back there. No doubt Lavellan had had some _words_ with them as well. He stared at them for a moment then closed the door behind him and walked over to his desk. He didn’t bother to lock the doors. He was fairly confident that no one was going to interrupt them now that the Inquisitor had gotten involved.

“Look,” Varric said, breaking the silence in the room. “As fun as it was to wake up in one of the more compromising positions I’ve ever been in, I…” He looked down at the floor and shuffled his feet. When he looked up, there was a wry, if not very humorous smile, on his face. “I generally prefer women and I have enough trouble there as it is. Trouble that I’d really like to sort out in a way that doesn’t leave me short a head or worse.” He gave them a nod. “So I’ll let you gentlemen sort _this_ out for yourselves.”

With that, Varric gave them each a nod and headed for the door. He paused for a moment with his hand on the door knob. “Listen. I’ve got eyes and I’m pretty good at reading people. So… you three looked pretty damn cozy.”

The dwarf ducked out of the room, leaving Cullen to stare at the top of his desk while Blackwall leaned against one wall and Dorian paced in tight circles in the opposite corner. No one spoke and none of them seemed to know how to break the impasse. Cullen found he actually missed Varric for once. The dwarf might be irritating but he did at least know how to use his words.

“Safe, secure, solid, strong. Hold me so I sleep at night. No dreams, just calm, just peace.”

The words drifted through the room and despite the fact that boy was nowhere to be seen, Cullen knew it had been Cole, reflecting his own thoughts and feelings. He kept his head down though, not wanting the others to see the look on his face. It never occurred to him that he might not be the only one those words referred to.

Dorian cleared his throat. “Well, while I won’t say I haven’t admired you, Commander, I do draw the line at hairy lummoxes who don’t know their own strength.”

It was the tight, tense, almost broken tone of Dorian’s voice that made Cullen look up and his breath caught when he saw the look on the man’s face. It was… apprehension, fear, worry and a misery that made Cullen’s chest ache. And as soon as he realised Cullen was looking, Dorian turned and all but ran out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Cullen slumped down against the desk and ran a hand down his face.

The hand on his shoulder made him jump and he looked around to see Blackwall watching him with sympathy and a certain amount of understanding. There was also something hesitant and secretive lurking in his eyes but it disappeared when he got a good look at Cullen’s face.

“Come on,” Blackwall said gruffly. “There’ll be no talking to him right now and you look like shit.”

“What…?” Cullen began but Blackwall didn’t give him the opportunity to speak. He hustled him up the ladder and stripped them both of armour and clothes with a sort of military precision Cullen could only admire. In short order, he found himself in much the same position he’d been when he’d woken up on the fateful morning weeks ago, with Blackwall snugged up against his back, one heavy arm thrown over his waist. He couldn’t have stopped himself from relaxing and giving a faint sigh of relief even if he’d wanted to.

“I don’t know what this is,” Blackwall rumbled quietly. 

Cullen gave a small start. He’d almost been dozing but now he lay where he was and made a small sound to indicate he was listening. 

“Don’t know what this is,” Blackwall repeated. “Never really been one to look at the lads with any sort of intent, though I had my moments when I was younger, and with my… well, I’m not sure if I should really let this continue.”

The garbled protest escaped Cullen without his permission and he blushed and would have pulled away in embarrassment if Blackwall’s arm hadn’t tightened around him, holding him where he was.

“I shouldn’t,” Blackwall said, his voice suddenly dark and grim, full of something Cullen couldn’t quite decipher but felt might be sorrow. “But I don’t want to let it go. We’re going to regret this but you… here… it feels right.”

Cullen gave a sigh of relief and relaxed again. He felt Blackwall settle against him, waiting to see what he would say.

“I didn’t dream that night.” He grimaced even though he knew Blackwall couldn’t see it. “I didn’t… dammit… that didn’t come out right.”

Blackwall chuckled and Cullen shivered a little at the feel of it. “Say it however you need to, lad,” the Warden said. “I’m not going to get offended and, remember, I’m a soldier. You don’t have to explain or sugarcoat things to the extent you do with others.”

Cullen swallowed. He hadn’t forgotten that about Blackwall but he’d let what it _meant_ slip his mind. Blackwall _was_ likely to understand in ways that the others, except for Cassandra and maybe Bull, wouldn’t. Or perhaps _couldn’t_ was a better word.

“I’ve seen… I’ve done… terrible things,” he admitted and he felt Blackwall’s arm tighten around him for a moment. “I was in the Circle in Ferelden when it fell. I was… held prisoner. The mages… they weren’t kind.”

He felt Blackwall’s nod and knew he wouldn’t have to explain further. “How old were you?” the older man asked.

“Nineteen. About a year out of training.”

“Shit.”

He could hear the regret and horror in Blackwall’s voice and for once it didn’t make him cringe or get defensive. The tenor of Blackwall’s regret and horror was different. It was that of a fellow soldier, that of a commanding officer thinking of people under his command. It was… _understanding_.

“Things got… worse,” he continued. “I hated mages. I was afraid of them and I let that take control. I was sent away from Kinloch for being unstable and the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall recruited me.” His voice when he continued was full of self-loathing. “She fed my hatred and fear and I… I let her. She encouraged me and I revelled in it. She validated my hatred and I believed her.”

“You were young.”

Cullen shook his head. “Not that young.”

Blackwall’s arm tightened around him again and he felt the older man huff into the back of his neck. “You were young. You were traumatised. And yes, you made some shit decisions. But…”

The pain in his voice made Cullen twist and look over his shoulder. That pain was reflected on his face and he gave Cullen a wry, melancholy smile.

“You’re not the only one, lad.” He gave Cullen a nudge. “Now settle down.”

Cullen did so, even daring to snuggle backwards into Blackwall’s embrace to offer him some comfort. From the way Blackwall sighed, he thought it might have worked.

“What happened next?” the older man prompted.

“I… started to see how stupid I’d been,” Cullen said. “Hawke… helped in his own unique way. I guess I started to wake up a bit. See just how bad things were and how complicit I was in that. Tried to… do what I could. I was Meredith’s second in command, her Knight-Captain, but I knew that rank was tenuous at best if I started openly challenging her. She’d kicked out better men than me for doing far less.”

“Samson,” Blackwall grunted.

“Yeah, Samson.” Cullen knew he sounded a little sour but it was hard seeing the man he’d once known as a _good_ man, who had helped him like this… and more… parading around next to Corypheus. He sighed. “I fought with Hawke against Meredith in the end but… I think I knew even then that the Order wasn’t what I wanted anymore. I don’t know what I would have done if Cassandra hadn’t turned up and offered me something better… a chance for redemption.”

“And the nightmares?”

Cullen closed his eyes. “Kinloch mostly. Sometimes Kirkwall. It wasn’t so bad when I was still taking lyrium but now… it’s most nights.”

He felt Blackwall go still behind him and quickly reviewed what he’d just said. He closed his eyes and sighed. He’d felt so comfortable with Blackwall listening that he hadn’t thought to guard his words.

“What’s this about lyrium?” Blackwall said with gruff concern.

“Templars take lyrium,” Cullen said. “We… we get addicted to it. I stopped taking it when I took up the position as Commander. It’s been… difficult.”

“So that explains it. I’d wondered why you were the Commander,” Blackwall muttered then he patted Cullen’s chest soothingly when he bridled a little. “Not that I doubted your ability once I got here, lad, and saw what you were doing. You deserve your place and the title. But you’re young for it. Really should be an old fart like me in the job while you gallivant around with the Inquisitor.”

“You’re not that old,” Cullen objected.

Blackwall chuckled and patted Cullen’s chest again. “I’m old enough.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to travel much at first,” Cullen admitted sourly. “I don’t think I could even now, though it is better than it has been.”

“You’re doing good work,” Blackwall rumbled. “Don’t ever think otherwise.”

Cullen smiled a little. “Thank you.” He gave a small huff of a laugh. “Anyway, the nightmares… are bad. Wake up screaming, covered in sweat bad. It’s why I don’t… actually sleep a lot.”

“And why you look like shit half the time,” Blackwall added bluntly. “But you slept well that night?”

Cullen nodded then said reluctantly, “I felt… safe.”

Blackwall was silent for a moment. “Yeah, lad, so did I.” He snorted when Cullen twitched. “I have my own demons plaguing me in the night, Cullen. My past isn’t a good one and I’m not proud of it. Haunts me a lot.”

Cullen nodded in understanding. “Guess we could try this then.

“Guess we could,” Blackwall said with a chuckle. “Now go to sleep, lad. You need it.”

Cullen settled down and closed his eyes. He expected it would still take a while to actually get to sleep but the combination of his own tiredness, the unexpected emotional load from the evening and the warm solid strength against his back lulled him faster than he expected and as sleep claimed him, he could only feel grateful.

When Cullen woke the next morning, he felt better than he had for a while. A full night of uninterrupted sleep was a rarity and he’d forgotten how good it could feel. He’d also forgotten the other effect that being well-rested provided and while normally he might ignore his morning erection, he found it just a bit difficult today. Because he wasn’t the only one with a morning erection and he wasn’t quite sure what to do. 

If it had been Samson behind him, as it had so many times in Kirkwall before Samson had been kicked out, he’d turn over and make something of their morning wood. But he didn’t know what Blackwall wanted out of this. Did he want just a platonic bed partner? It seemed unlikely given he’d stripped them both naked but it wasn’t impossible either. They hadn’t exactly talked about this part of… whatever this was last night.

Blackwall muttered in his sleep and shifted slightly, his cock pressing against the crease of Cullen’s arse and sliding forward between his legs a little. Cullen drew in a breath and closed his eyes, frustrated at both his uncertainty and his sensitivity. Lyrium dulled a number of senses but it had never been a problem for Cullen. His ‘romantic’ encounters – other than Samson – had been few and far between and Samson had known a few tricks to get the blood burning a little quicker than normal. But since he’d stopped taking lyrium, he’d become unusually sensitive. It had been hell in the early days and while it seemed to be fading, it was taking its own sweet time about it and driving him mad in the meantime.

And the fact that Blackwall had now started making little shallow thrusts was not helping matters at all. He turned his head into the pillow to muffle his groan then reached down and took himself in hand. He knew that he shouldn’t, that he should wait until Blackwall was awake and they could discuss this like adults but Maker bless, he was not made of marble.

He was so caught up in his own head and in the feeling of his calloused hand on his cock that for a few crucial moments, he missed the fact that Blackwall had woken and gone very still. And when he did notice, he froze and blushed.

“That’s an impressive blush you’ve got there,” Blackwall said, his voice a low, hoarse, sleep-filled growl. “Goes quite the way down, doesn’t it?” 

Cullen swallowed audibly and opened his mouth but before he could say anything, Blackwall continued, low and deep and right in his ear.

“No need to stop what you’re doing on my account.”

Cullen moaned and could no more have stopped his hand from moving again than he could have stopped the sun from rising. As he continued, Blackwall snugged his arm around his waist a bit more securely and began to thrust, though instead of being light and shallow, these were harder, more determined and the head of his thick cock bumped against Cullen’s balls every time.

“This okay?” Blackwall rumbled. Cullen nodded and Blackwall squeezed tightly for a moment. “Need to hear it, Cullen. Need to hear you say it.”

“Yes,” Cullen gasped. “Maker, yes. Don’t stop.”

Blackwall chuckled. “Not going to do that, my lad.”

Cullen started moving his hand faster as he chased his orgasm and a moment later he felt the older man start mouthing scratchy kisses along his shoulder. The scrape of Blackwall’s beard against his oversensitive skin made him gasp and then make wordless noises of encouragement, which drew another chuckle from the man. He didn’t stop though and when he nipped at the juncture of Cullen’s neck and shoulder, that sting of sensation was enough to send Cullen over the edge. 

He gave a soft cry as he spilled over his hand and onto the bed and he heard Blackwall’s low curse before the older man’s thrusts became harder and more insistent. Blackwall cursed again and groaned low and deep in his chest as Cullen felt him spill warm wetness over his inner thighs. They both lay there for a moment, catching their breath, and Cullen felt Blackwall’s mouth against the back of his neck in soft delicate kisses.

“We’ve made a right mess,” Blackwall rumbled, sounding pleased and a little possessive as he ran his hand down Cullen’s stomach and over his now flaccid cock and between his thighs, smearing their combined spend over his skin.

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” Cullen said, leaning back into Blackwall’s arms a little. He knew he had to get up soon. Clean up and get down to supervise the morning training but he felt too good to move right at this moment and it was a rare enough sensation that he was willing to be a little late for once.

Blackwall laughed. “So it is. Hiding a little hedonistic streak, are we, Commander?”

“Yes,” Cullen said with a small smile.

Blackwall shifted so that he could pull Cullen round onto his back. “Good. A man needs to enjoy himself from time to time.”

That was advice Cullen hadn’t been able to follow. Until now. He reached up and slid a hand round the back of Blackwall’s head then hesitated for a moment.

“May I?”

The smile he got was soft and amused though there was _something_ lurking in the depths of Blackwall’s eyes that he didn’t much like. Before he could dwell on it, Blackwall leaned down at kissed him. It wasn’t what he was expecting but it was everything he wanted – gentle but with an edge of demand, wanting and appreciative. Then Blackwall pulled away and slapped him on the flank.

“Now, come on, Commander. Up,” he said with a gruff laugh. “You and I have recruits to whip into shape.”

Cullen gave a genuine laugh, one of the few in recent memory, and crawled out of bed to clean up and face the day. He knew there was still Dorian to deal with but for once, he was facing the day with optimism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's looks like we're going with the OT3 of Blackwall/Cullen/Dorian. Varric has to deal with Bianca and, as you may have noticed in the fic, Cassandra. He's got enough on his plate, though he may end up passing out on top of their legs again from time to time.


	51. Dropping Eaves - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over on tumblr, Anonymous asked for: “I noticed” for Cullrian and here it is. 
> 
> Dorian inadvertently eavesdrops on a conversation. He learns some thing he’d rather not have and some things he’s glad he did.
> 
> Note: This fic very briefly references Cullen’s time at Kinloch Hold and in Kirkwall.

“I noticed.”

It wasn’t the words that brought Dorian to a halt so much as the tone of voice of the one saying them. It was amused, sly, salacious and full of innuendo. Whoever it belonged to was tucked away in the next niche in the library and clearly hadn’t noticed that Dorian was still there. It _was_ late at night after all and he _had_ been busy cross-referencing silently so whoever it was and whoever they were speaking to probably thought they were all alone. He should probably make himself known and shoo them out but frankly he was curious about what had prompted that tone of voice.

“But… the Tevinter mage?”

Dorian twitched and made the first move to shut down the conversation very firmly. If it was about him, it wasn’t likely to be anything good. However that sly amused voice halted him once again.

“I _know_. You should see them when they’re playing chess. I’m not sure whether to find them utterly adorable yet slightly sickening due to the sheer sugar overload or to be insanely jealous because honestly, what does the Tevinter mage have that I haven’t got?”

Dorian wanted to harrumph at that because he had _everything_ this mysterious man lacked. That was plainly obvious. Then the other person, a woman now that he was listening closely, replied in a dry voice full of restrained mirth.

“Charm, wit and an ego that’s clearly _way_ more in control than yours?”

“Hmph. Details.”

“I just never pictured the Commander with a man, let alone a mage.”

“Why not?”

“Kinloch” the woman said simply. “I’m from the Ferelden Circle. I was about thirteen when it fell. I was lucky though. I was in my lesson with Wynne when everything happened so I was saved. The Commander wasn’t so lucky. It was pretty bad from what I heard.”

“I forgot he was there,” the man replied thoughtfully. “I’m from Kirkwall. Old Knight-Captain Stick-Up-His-Arse Cullen was always an interesting topic.”

“Why?”

Dorian could almost hear the man shrug and for a moment he wanted to make his presence known to put a stop to this conversation. Or at least sneak away so that he didn’t overhear things he probably had no right knowing unless it was Cullen telling him. Curiosity, however, had always been his besetting sin so he stayed right where he was.

“The man had a stick shoved so far up his arse it was a wonder he could bend over at all,” the man replied, almost derisively. “He never questioned Meredith until the end but if you had eyes and paid attention, you knew something bad had happened to him because _nobody_ flinches around magic like he used to unless they’ve been involved in something _very, very_ bad. Then there were the moments when he’d be almost human, which got more and more frequent towards the end.” He paused for effect. “And the man is just so darn pretty.”

The woman laughed. “Isn’t he just?” She paused for a moment and when she continued, her tone was more thoughtful. “I was too young to really know – or be told – much of what happened in the Circle but I do know the Commander was the only survivor among the Templars who were trapped behind the doors.”

There was a moment of silence then the man said with some surprise, “Now _that_ I didn’t know. Maker, how many Templars were still in the Circle when it fell?”

“Almost all of them… and the Commander was very young back then. I remember him a little. He was just out of training if I’m remembering correctly.”

“Huh.” The man was silent for a moment. “I take back a full third of the unsavoury things I said about him in Kirkwall.”

“Only a third?”

“He earned most of them but, yeah, under the circumstances, I’ll retract a third of them. I never knew it was that bad. I suppose we’re lucky he wasn’t a raving lunatic like Meredith.”

“And now he’s taken up with a pretty Tevinter mage,” the woman said slyly.

“Such a pretty pair.” The man sighed. “I wonder if I’d have had a chance if I’d made a move on the Commander before Pavus got to him?”

“You’ll never know now. The Commander seems like the type to hang on tight to someone he’s in love with.”

Dorian’s eyes widened. The relationship with Cullen was new and infinitely precious but they hadn’t really discussed their feelings much. Cullen had courted him so subtly he had almost missed what was going on and now that they’d moved from the courtship to the bedroom, he hadn’t wanted to push his luck. But if these outsiders were so confident in the way Cullen felt about him… could he dare to hope they were right?

“Lucky Vint,” the man said with another sigh. “Ah well. Maybe I’ll go and speak with him tomorrow?”

“The Vint? Why?”

“Have you seen him practice?” The man made a whistling sound. “They definitely teach magic differently up north and since the Commander would hardly start bedding…”

“Uh-uh,” the woman interrupted him. “It’s hardly mere bedding with the epic googly eyes they make at each other at every opportunity.”

“True. So. Since the Commander would hardly fall in love with an evil blood mage, I guess I’m willing to trust the Vint enough to learn from him.”

“Big of you,” the woman said dryly. “Can I join you?”

The man was about to answer when there was the sound of a door opening below and Cullen called out, “Dorian?”

Dorian ducked further back into the niche he was standing in and hid in the shadows. As he did, he heard the two mages gasp and curse then one moved towards the balustrade.

“I don’t think he’s up here, Commander,” the woman said. 

It was subtle in her voice but Dorian could tell that she was torn between feeling mortified that Cullen – or worse, _Dorian_ – might have overheard their conversation and amused that one of the subjects of said conversation had appeared as though summoned.

“Uh. Right,” Cullen said and Dorian knew he was rubbing the back of his neck in that delightfully awkward gesture that Dorian adored so much. “Um, if you see him, could you tell him that I’m… uh, looking for him?”

“Of course, Commander.”

There was a pause as the door opened and closed again then the woman gave an exaggerated sigh of relief.

“Whew! That was close.”

“That’ll teach us to gossip so close to the Commander’s office,” the man replied with a giggle.

“Let’s get out of here before we end up with Lord Pavus stumbling over us. That would really cap off our night.”

The man laughed and from his dark corner, Dorian watched as they headed past him for the stairs. He waited until he heard the sound of the door into the main hall open and close again and then he emerged from the dark corner and sank down into the chair at the desk in the niche. He’d always been told that you never heard anything good when you eavesdropped but he couldn’t say this was entirely the case here. While there were certainly some things he’d rather have learned from Cullen and not those two gossiping mages, the fact they were so very confident that Cullen was in love with him was… gratifying.

With that thought, he got to his feet and headed for the stairs. He knew why Cullen had been looking for him. He’d promised he would join the Commander for dinner in his office and he didn’t want his lover to think he wasn’t _exceedingly_ interested in joining him. And maybe it was time to have that conversation about their relationship. He’d been avoiding it until now but what he’d just overheard made him think Cullen would greet the broaching of the subject very positively. And if those two actually fronted up to him tomorrow and asked for lessons, well, he’d just have to teach them well, wouldn’t he? He did owe them, even if they would never know it.


	52. Tea For Two - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jack-the-giantkiller asked me for the following prompt fic: “It’s two sugars, right?” for Cullrian? Bc coffeeshop AUs.
> 
> And here it is. Dorian appreciates his tea. He _really_ appreciates it.

Dorian _hated_ coffee. He only drank it for two reasons… three actually. Firstly, he needed the caffeine. His job here in Haven required earlier starts than even his time in the Circles in Tevinter had prepared him for and he simply wouldn’t be able to function without the bitter shot of caffeine in the morning. Secondly, no one in this Maker-forsaken town seemed to be able to make a decent cup of tea to save themselves, not that they had access to decent tea leaves anyway so he supposed it hardly mattered. Thirdly and finally, his lab partner Solas despised tea with a passion and honestly the elven mage was difficult enough to work with was it was. So… coffee it was, strong and laden with sugar to try and disguise the bitter taste of the dark sludge.

“It’s two sugars, right?”

He blinked and focused as best as he could on the insanely handsome barista who was watching him with a faint smirk on his scarred lips that Dorian either wanted to slap away or kiss. Or possibly both. It was far too early for him to make such a decision however so he settled on making an indistinct noise to indicate his approval.

A lidded cup was duly held out to him and he handed over money in return. He accepted his change, dropped a tip in the jar before making another indistinct garbled sound to indicate his thanks and goodbye then meandered out of the shop, nearly smacking into the door as he left.

He didn’t notice the barista watching him go with a mix of amusement and mild alarm and he was gone by the time the man let out a yelp as he was smacked on the arm by an imperious looking woman with short dark hair then went back to work with a grin.

The morning, several days later, when he was handed tea – actual genuine Tevinter tea – instead of his usual sludge didn’t actually register with him until he was out the door and about halfway to the bus stop. It would have been a hilarious thing to watch… had there actually been anyone there who knew him _to_ watch.

First he took a sip from his cup, grimacing at what he assumed was the usual coffee. Then he took a second sip, then a third and then finally on the fourth, he came to an abrupt halt, his eyes widening with surprise. He took a tentative fifth sip and a look of wonder grew on his face. He prised off the lid of the cup and peered into it before taking a long beatific sniff of the contents and then draining half the beautiful, gorgeous liquid inside in one go, uncaring of the potential for burning his tongue. Because it was _tea_. It was _Tevinter_ tea. Prepared in the Tevinter way so it was warm but not too hot and _perfectly_ brewed with just enough sugar to make it utterly perfect.

He drained the rest of the tea then turned around and marched back to the coffee shop. He shoved the door open and strode up to the counter. Thankfully it was a brief quiet moment, not that he actually would have cared if the place had been packed to the brim but at least this way there was no one glaring daggers at him behind his back. 

The gorgeous blond barista was watching him approach with a far too innocent look on his face and Dorian waved a finger at him with one hand as he brandished the empty cup with the other.

“This is tea!”

The barista somehow managed to keep a straight face, which Dorian would later appreciate when he looked back on this with utter mortification. Someone out the back wasn’t quite as circumspect as Dorian heard a muffled snort and bark of laughter.

“Yes, it is,” the barista said calmly.

“This is _Tevinter_ tea!”

“Yes.”

“Prepared _perfectly_.”

“Oh, I got that right, did I? I was hoping I’d followed the instructions correctly.”

Dorian blinked. “You had instructions?”

“Yes.”

“You have Tevinter tea.”

Really, the barista’s ability to keep a relatively straight face was truly remarkable. Only the amusement gleaming in his eyes and that tiny little smirk gave him away.

“Yes, we do. It seemed like the right thing to do. You don’t seem to like coffee very much.”

“I don’t,” Dorian said very seriously. 

He set the cup down on the bench very gently, like it was a chalice that had been holding liquid gold – which wasn’t a bad analogy really – and watched as the barista quickly but perfectly prepared another cup of tea for him. He picked the cup up when he was done and took a sip, making a noise which he would later realise was utterly pornographic and an excellent explanation for both the strangled noise that came from the barista and the red on the man’s face when he looked over at him.

He looked down at his cup of perfectly brewed Tevinter tea then back up at the barista then back down at the tea. He set the tea down on the bench far enough away that he wouldn’t upset the cup then leaned over and grabbed the barista by the front of his shirt. The man looked mildly startled for a moment then Dorian wasn’t sure what the look on his face was because he was kissing him. The barista _did_ start kissing back after a moment so Dorian figured it couldn’t be too bad.

He let go of the barista, who now looked stunned and just faintly debauched, his lips red and wet, which only served to make him even more gorgeous. Dorian picked up his tea and carefully put the lid back on. He then held the cup up as though giving a toast.

“ _Tea_ ,” he said seriously before turning and heading for the door, the bus stop and his job.

It wouldn’t be until about an hour later that he’d wake up enough to realise what he’d done and his apologies the next day were profuse and mortified. Cullen, which he learned was the barista’s name, turned out to not have minded one bit and instead of letting him apologise had come out from behind the counter to kiss him far more thoroughly than he’d managed the previous day. It was to become Dorian’s favourite way to start the day. Cullen’s kisses were better than all the coffee and tea in the world, even Tevinter tea.


	53. He Was My Friend - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> athos-silvani gave me this prompt over on tumblr: “Do you wanna call him/her? Maybe we could all have a little party together.” and I went and smeared angst over it today in a modern AU Cullrian fic.
> 
> Warnings for mentions of addiction and withdrawal and past Sullen.
> 
> Dorian knows Raleigh Samson was Cullen’s friend but that doesn’t mean he has to like the idea that the man is trying to worm his way back into Cullen’s life now.

“Do you wanna call him? Maybe we could all have a little party together.”

From the sudden startled look Cullen gave him, Dorian knew that all the bitterness, anger, hurt and, yes, jealousy he was feeling really _had_ coloured every single word of that snide response. He’d been _trying_ to keep it all to himself, he really had. He’d been trying to be a supportive boyfriend and give Cullen the time and space and whatever else it was he needed in order to deal with the sudden upheaval in his life.

He knew that discovering that Raleigh Samson, his old partner – in many meanings of that word – was in town had been something of a minefield for Cullen. His lover had never fully explained what had happened between the two men but he knew enough. He knew that Cullen’s addiction dated back to that time and that his decision to withdraw had been the last tiny final straw that broke the relationship apart irretrievably. That alone was enough to make him wonder _why_ Cullen had wanted to see the man again.

Though, truth be told, Cullen had been vacillating back and forth on the subject for several days before he finally made his decision. Half the time he seemed to understand why Dorian thought it would be an astonishingly bad idea to meet with Samson but the rest of the time he talked about the ‘good old days’. And honestly, from some of the stories, Dorian _could_ see why Cullen had liked Samson so much. The term ‘rough diamond’ was overused but Samson genuinely seemed to be one. Or used to be one.

“Dorian…” Cullen broke off, clearly unable to figure out what to say.

Dorian swallowed hard and waved a hand. “Ignore me. Go. Go off to your reunion.”

He got up from where he’d been sitting on the couch and walked out of the room, heading for their bedroom. When he got there, he sat down on the edge of the bed and cradled his head in his hands. He could hear Cullen walking around in the other room then it went silent and he assumed that Cullen had left. 

As such, he was naturally surprised when the bed dipped beside him and he felt Cullen’s warmth pressed up against his side. A moment later, large warm calloused hands were pulling his hands away from his face, forcing him to sit up. Cullen didn’t let go of his hands and he finally looked over at his lover.

“I’m sorry,” Cullen said with all the sincerity Dorian could have hoped for and had rarely received before he’d met Cullen. “I didn’t…” He sighed. “I’ve been very selfish this last couple of weeks.”

“He’s your friend,” Dorian objected weakly. 

“No, he’s not,” Cullen said heavily. “I _know_ he’s not. I know everything you’ve said has been right.” He smiled wryly. “And, really, you’ve been very restrained. Who are you and what have you done with Dorian Pavus?”

Dorian managed a small smile at that. “I’m like an onion. I have layers.”

Cullen gave a more genuine laugh, that horrible honking noise that Dorian was both appalled by and adored beyond all reason. “I am _not_ Donkey,” he said dryly.

“You have the laugh for it,” Dorian countered.

Cullen laughed again then sobered. “I texted and told him I couldn’t make it.”

“Cullen,” Dorian began. “You wanted…”

“Yeah,” Cullen said. “But I know what you _haven’t_ been saying. I _know_ it. I’ve been saying it to myself ever since you artfully left those scrawled notes so obviously _not_ thrown away in the rubbish.”

Dorian winced. He’d made a phone call to Cullen’s current partner, Cassandra Pentaghast, and had asked her to look into this Raleigh Samson. He _never_ did things like that but he’d just been so _worried_. And it wasn’t as though Cassandra had given even a pro forma objection. She’d just told him she’d call back soon. She’d duly called back within the hour and it hadn’t been pretty. No matter what Samson might have told Cullen, he wasn’t clean. He wasn’t even _remotely_ clean, wasn’t even _thinking_ about it. In fact, he was rumoured to be deeply involved in the red lyrium trade. 

Dorian had scribbled a few notes to that effect and then screwed up the piece of paper so that Samson’s name was visible then left it carefully placed in the rubbish bin in the kitchen where Cullen wouldn’t have been able to miss it. When he’d gone into the kitchen late in the evening, the paper had been missing but Cullen had never mentioned it until now.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered.

“No, you should have.” Cullen sighed again. “Cassandra’s been all but beating me over the head with the red lyrium file. Leaving it open on my desk at strategic pages and so on.”

Dorian couldn’t help the faint smile that appeared on his face. Cassandra was not a subtle woman and he liked her enormously. He couldn’t have asked for a better partner for Cullen, especially as the two were firm friends as well as work partners. Cassandra was not the sort of woman to let Cullen get lost in his own head, even if she had to beat him over said head to get him out of it.

“I just…” 

Cullen sounded so miserable that Dorian reacted by instinct, turning and crawling into his lover’s lap. He knew Cullen found a great deal of comfort in this and it was still true now as the man wrapped his arms tightly around Dorian and buried his face in his shoulder. He ran a hand through Cullen’s hair, coaxing the curls out from the product he used to straighten them. He felt Cullen huff when he realised what Dorian was doing but he made no further protest.

Finally Cullen raised his head and he looked so lost that Dorian’s heart went out to him.

“He was a good man,” Cullen said plaintively. “He… After the mess in Kinloch, I’d probably have gone completely off the rails when I got to Kirkwall but he just took one look at me and said, ‘Righto, the kid’s mine.’ He gave me his spare room and kicked my arse every time I started getting out of hand.”

“He got you hooked on lyrium,” Dorian said, managing to keep the rancour in his voice to a dull edge.

“Not deliberately,” Cullen replied. “We were undercover, Dorian, and it got messier than we thought it would. We had to keep our cover going and…” He grimaced and shook his head. “In hindsight, we probably should have pulled out and let someone else try again at a later point but we were… cocky. Arrogant. So sure we could handle it by ourselves.”

Dorian wondered how much of that cocky and arrogant was really Samson being reckless but then, he knew Cullen had it in him to be cocky and arrogant as well. Or he had once. Perhaps this was what had knocked it out of him. It seemed likely.

Cullen sighed again and shook his head. “Hawke helped me. Held a hand out and hauled me up when I went crawling to him for help getting off lyrium, even though he had no earthly reason to do so and _every_ reason to say fuck off. I just…” He hung his head a little. “I just wanted to give Samson that same chance. Stupid, I know.”

Dorian raised Cullen’s head and cradled it in his hands. “No, it’s not stupid, Amatus. But the difference is that you _wanted_ the help. You _wanted_ to get clean and sort out your life. I don’t think Samson is there yet or if he ever will be.”

Cullen closed his eyes and nodded slightly. “You’re right. I know you’re right but…”

“Emotions don’t respond very well to logic,” Dorian finished wryly.

Cullen gave him a rueful look. “Not really.”

Dorian brushed his thumbs along Cullen’s cheeks then let his hands fall to Cullen’s shoulders. “So what now?”

Cullen’s lips curled in one of those shy smiles that drove Dorian mad because he knew very well what Cullen was capable of. “Well, I have all this free time now and we are in the bedroom. I thought we could put it to some good use.”

Dorian was caught by surprise and he gaped at Cullen for a moment before breaking out into laughter. “As much as I like that answer, Amatus, you know what I’m talking about.”

“I do,” Cullen replied. “I’ll… wait and see. And if he contacts me again, I’ll talk to you first this time. You and Cassandra.”

“Good,” Dorian said. He sighed with relief then smiled in a predatory fashion that was all the warning he gave before he shifted his weight and tipped them over backwards on the bed. “Now… you were saying?”


	54. The Door Or The Window? - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> barefootchaos over on tumblr gave me the number 75 for the [librarian challenge](http://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/post/148177075943/send-me-librarian-a-number-and-ill-grab-the). The closest book was my copy of _Sherlock Holmes: The Complete Novels and Stories: Volume 1_ and one page 75 I found the following line (minus the actual designation of the speaker): _“There are two ways out of the room; there is the door and there is the window. Which do you care to use?”_
> 
> So I wrote this for it. It’s Cullrian and set post-Trespasser. Just a small warning for mentions of violence and blood and death. NPC death, not Cullen or Dorian.

"There are two ways out of the room; there is the door and there is the window. Which do you care to use?"

Cullen was grinning as he said that, his teeth red with blood from the blow to the mouth he’d just taken and his eyes alight with a fey, wild glint, and Dorian felt a sudden burst of fear that cleared some of the fuzz in his head. He hadn’t been expecting to be ambushed by assassins in his own house. His wards were excellent and he had no idea right now how these people had circumvented them. He hadn’t been paying attention when they’d arrived home to even know they’d been breached. Cullen had been warm and pliant under his touch and kisses, as eager as he was to get somewhere private where they could finish what they’d _both_ started at the party.

“Amatus,” he croaked, trying to find enough concentration to cast _any_ kind of spell but whatever had been in that grenade they’d tossed at his feet had left him unfocused and dazed.

“Stay down, love,” Cullen said, his voice full of a sort of grim savagery Dorian had never heard before.

He had no idea what Cullen was actually going to _do_. He didn’t have a weapon on him, unless you counted the small belt knife he wore, and Dorian _didn’t_ count that. It was barely the length of Cullen’s hand in its entirety and he was facing three highly trained mage-assassins. He supposed he should be flattered that whoever had sent the assassins felt they needed to send _three_ but instead he just felt terrified. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation.

The wash of strange power that suddenly flowed over him was even more terrifying because in its wake, he couldn’t feel the Fade. He couldn’t feel his magic. He felt suddenly bereft of the most important part of himself and he gasped and clutched at the floor as he reeled from the loss.

A sudden gurgling scream drew him out of his shock and he looked up just in time to see that Cullen had somehow closed the gap between himself and the closest of the assassins. The three mage-assassins looked just as staggered and shocked as he was and the scream had come from that belt knife that Dorian had dismissed as useless being buried into the closest assassin’s neck.

The assassin dropped to the floor like a marionette with its threads cut but Cullen didn’t even stop to watch. Instead he charged towards the second assassin and there was a shockingly sudden spurt of blood as the knife sliced across the man’s throat. The third and final assassin had overcome some of his shock by this point and while clearly still shaken, had pulled out a weapon – a knife so long it was almost a short sword – and was holding it with frightening competency.

As Dorian watched, Cullen seemed to disregard that. He made a feint towards the assassin and when the man lashed out with his long knife, Cullen moved so fast that Dorian wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it. His lover darted forward and grabbed the assassin’s wrist. He squeezed tightly and forced the assassin to drop the knife then he picked the man up bodily and _hurled_ him through the window in an ear-splitting shatter of glass. The assassin had time for a single scream before there was a sickening, squelching thud that made Dorian wince. The window looked out onto the street and thus the garden below it was only a narrow strip with a fence in front of it. A fence with sharp spikes on the top, something it seemed the assassin had just found out about.

Then Cullen was on his knees beside him, the bloodied knife clattering to the floor behind him. He spared a second to wipe his hands clean then he was cradling Dorian’s face gently as he pressed butterfly soft kisses to his face.

“Maker, Dorian. Love? Are you alright? I’m so sorry. There was no way to exclude you from that.” He swallowed hard when Dorian didn’t immediately answer. “Dorian?”

“M’okay,” Dorian said, reaching out and tugging Cullen closer. Cullen responded the way he wanted, by wrapping him up in his embrace and pulling him tight against his body.

Cullen gave a sigh of relief and pressed a kiss into his hair. “Thank the Maker. Should I… that stuff they threw at you… should I get a healer?”

Dorian shook his head. Now that he wasn’t under any immediate threat, he recognised the gas for what it was. Annoying, disorientating but ultimately harmless. It would dissipate from his system shortly, as it was meant to, and leave no traces of itself on him.

“No,” he murmured. “It… it’ll pass soon.” He looked up at Cullen. “What did you _do_?"

He was surprised when Cullen looked bashful and licked his lips nervously.

“I… I Silenced them.”

Dorian blinked. “But… you’re not taking lyrium.”

“As it turns out, Templars don’t actually _need_ lyrium to use our abilities,” Cullen said dryly. “Something the illustrious king of Ferelden pointed out to me a few months ago.”

Dorian blinked again, remembering their visit to Ferelden and how unsettled Cullen had seemed during their trip back to Tevinter. He’d thought it was because Cullen was regretting his decision to stay with Dorian but it had passed after they got back to Minrathous so he’d let the thought go rather than pursue a subject that we was sure he wouldn’t like.

“You didn’t tell me,” he said. 

He winced a little when it came out as more of a petulant whine than a genuine enquiry but Cullen only chuckled.

“I was still trying to wrap my mind around it myself,” he admitted ruefully. “But tonight… there didn’t seem to be much time for contemplation anymore.”

Dorian looked over at the bodies of the two assassins and shuddered. “Very true.” 

Then, as suddenly as it had been taken away, his connection to the Fade returned and he felt his magic once again, as strong as it had ever been. He gave a sigh of relief and slumped against Cullen.

“It’s back. My magic,” he said before Cullen could panic. He still felt a bit fuzzy in the head from the grenade but even that was fading now. He then let out a squawk as he was lifted into the air and he clutched at Cullen even as he was cradled firmly and carefully in the man’s arms. “What in the world…?”

“You are going to bed,” Cullen said firmly. “That Silence will leave you drained for a while, even if you don’t feel it yet. I’ll get the servants to…” He swallowed, still unused to how blasé Tevinter could be about assassinations. “…to clean up.”

“I can walk!” he demanded and was immediately pulled closer to Cullen’s chest, if that was even possible.

“I know.” Cullen looked grim. “Just… let me have this.”

Dorian looked at his lover’s face, at the fading stress and the bruise starting to form at the side of his mouth, and decided that just for once he could let himself be coddled.


	55. The Call - Fenris/Solas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today, I put out a [prompt post](http://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/post/148220097193/okay-i-need-prompts-because-i-write-better-on) over on tumblr, which you are all welcome to contribute to! The more, the merrier. Anyway, ahtos-silvani gave me the prompt - “How come I always end up calling you when I can’t fall asleep?” for the pairing Fenris/Solas (which is my new rarepair... why do I keep picking up rarepairs... kill me now! *lol*)
> 
> So, this is a Modern AU in which the Inquisition and the Kirkwall crew are in the same time. The Inquisition is this nebulous powerful benevolent organisation (I’m sort of picturing something like Stark Industries post-Afghanistan maybe?) and Danarius is a kind of mob boss whom Fenris worked for unwillingly and then escaped from. Hawke runs a private detective/we’ll do anything, anytime, anywhere sort of business and Fenris works for him. Magic exists and Solas is still a mage and rather mysterious. And Fenris still has his lyrium brands.
> 
> Oh, it gets a little nsfw-ish at the end.

“How come I always end up calling you when I can’t fall asleep?”

Fenris knew he sounded petulant and grumpy and that those emotions were not the right way to get on the good side of the man at the other end of the phone but he couldn’t help himself. He’d had a long day and he was achy and sore and just wanted to _sleep_. Hawke had dragged him up and down the Sundermount that day in an effort to find a lost person and while he wasn’t complaining about _that_ , he could have done without having to put up with Anders’ spite and Merrill’s relentless cheerfulness. Even Aveline’s comfortable good sense had been grating by the end of the day. Worse, they hadn’t found the child so Hawke had been miserable and sullen as they’d trudged back to their cars. About the only thing that had gone well was that Fenris’ beaten up car had actually started and not decided to crap out on him yet again.

“I have no idea but as soon as you find an answer, I hope you’ll let me know,” came the dry, slightly exasperated response.

Solas was an enigma to Fenris and one he had tried to stay away from any number of times. The other elf was wealthy, intelligent and from what Fenris could tell, involved in something very, very big and very, very dangerous. All in all, he was someone Fenris knew he should steer well clear of and yet… Solas was also the first person he’d ever met who didn’t pity him or treat him like he was something broken after finding out about his past. Even Hawke hadn’t quite managed that and Fenris considered the man to be his first and best friend, despite his infatuation with Anders.

“Fenris? What’s wrong?”

Fenris gave a start and realised that he’d been silent for several minutes. “Long day,” he said with a sigh. He rubbed his face with one hand as he wriggled around in his bed, trying to find a comfortable position.

“I heard that Hawke had been hired by the Viscount to find his son. You did not find him?”

“No.” Fenris grumbled under his breath. “Not for want of looking. If there is a part of the Sundermount we did not climb today, I don’t know what it is.”

A warm chuckle came down the line and Fenris managed a small smile. That sound was delicious and he treasured each and every one he managed to draw from the other elf. 

“Have you tried searching the Wounded Coast?”

Fenris frowned. There was something about Solas’ tone of voice that said he knew more about what was going on that he was letting on.

“What do you know?”

“A great many things,” came the dry reply.

Fenris sat up with a grunt, the duvet pooling around his waist and his lyrium brands gleaming in the moonlight coming through the window. He’d never been able to sleep with the curtains closed, not since he’d escaped from Danarius. He liked to have as clear a field of vision as was humanly possible.

“Is the Inquisition involved in this?” he demanded.

There was an impatient sigh from the other end of the phone. “How many times must I tell you, Fenris? The Inquisition is not your enemy nor is it the enemy of anyone in Thedas.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” Fenris snarled then he grunted as he moved in the wrong way and the muscles in his back seized.

“Fenris?” Solas sounded concerned. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“Fenris.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Fenris snapped. “Why are you sending us to the Wounded Coast?”

Solas sighed, sounding exasperated. “There are indications of Tal Vashoth camping on the Wounded Coast. Seamus Dumar is friends with a Tal Vashoth named Ashaad, is he not? That has been in all the media I have seen.”

Fenris slumped back on the bed. “Fine. I’ll mention it to Hawke tomorrow.”

“Now.” He could almost see Solas’ stern expression. “Are you hurt? That noise you made before was one of pain.”

“Just muscle soreness,” Fenris replied. “I was not injured.”

“Good.” Solas sounded relieved then his tone softened. “What is keeping you awake, vhenan?”

Fenris shivered at the endearment, wanting to both embrace it and reject it. He didn’t know what he’d done to draw not only Solas’ attention but also his affections. It was easy to forget who Solas was when they were together but when they were apart, when Solas’ duties to the Inquisition took him away to Skyhold, Fenris had his doubts. What did Solas see in him? He was an elf of no family or home that he remembered, who had worked for a man who was essentially a mob boss. Admittedly it hadn’t been willingly but the point stood. He now lived in a shitty apartment and if not for Hawke, would have been lucky to get a job.

Solas, on the other hand, was a respected member of the mysterious Inquisition and, if the rumours were right, a close friend and advisor to Evelyn Trevelyan, the equally mysterious head of the Inquisition, whom the media had taken to calling the Inquisitor. He was a powerful mage – and that alone was enough to make Fenris’ mind boggle. How had he come to trust and… and yes, care for a _mage_ of all people? It should be impossible but… he did. He was honest enough with himself at least to admit that. But Solas was so utterly out of his league that he should have been dismissed by the other elf, not end up in his bed and be in the sort of relationship where he was willing to take Fenris’ calls at ungodly hours of the morning and actually be _concerned_ instead of annoyed.

“I don’t know,” he reluctantly admitted. “I’m tired and I ache and I want to sleep but I can’t.”

There was a moment of silence at the other end of the line then Solas said, “Are you at home?”

Fenris frowned. “Yes. Why?”

“I’m coming over.”

Fenris blanched and sat up again. “No!”

There was silence again. “May I ask why?” Solas said, sounding faintly hurt.

“I… my apartment…” Fenris swallowed. “It’s not…”

“I do not care, emma lath,” Solas said softly. There were sounds in the background that Fenris couldn’t place. “I simply wish to see you.”

Fenris held himself still for a long moment then he sagged. “Very well,” he grumped.

Solas chuckled, the background sounds intensifying for a moment before becoming muffled. “I feel that perhaps I should be offended at your lack of enthusiasm.”

“No!” Fenris said sharply then he gave a huff. “I… I wish to see you but I am…”

“I know,” Solas said, once again in the infinitely gentle tone of voice that Fenris both loved and loathed. He might have rejected it entirely if it had held even an ounce of pity in it or he suspected for a moment that Solas thought he was damaged in some way but it was just… gentle. Caring. Even loving. “You have told me of your past and I am honoured you were willing to trust me with that. You have told me of your present. I know. I do not care if your apartment is small or in a terrible part of town. It is _you_ I wish to see.”

“I… very well.” Fenris scrubbed his face with his free hand. He suddenly frowned. “Are you _here_? In Kirkwall?”

Solas chuckled. “I was wondering how long it would take you to realise that. Yes, I am. I returned this afternoon. I called your cell but there was no answer. When I called your work number, Bethany told me you were out with Hawke and not expected back until very late unless things went well. So I decided to wait and call you tomorrow morning.”

“We were out of cell range for most of the day,” Fenris said, latching onto the part of that statement that he felt he could actually answer right now.

“The Sundermount is notorious for that,” Solas replied. 

Again there were noises in the background then the sound of a door opening and closing. Fenris recognised the familiar creak of the front door of his building. He got out of bed, shivering as his feet touched the cold floor. He was wearing only a pair of boxer briefs and he was tempted to throw on some clothes but he didn’t want to put the phone down.

“I didn’t go back to the office so I didn’t get your message,” he said absently as he made his way out into the living room.

There was a knock on the door and he hung up the call and tossed his phone on the sofa before opening the door. Solas stepped inside and closed the door. Fenris wasn’t sure if he threw himself at Solas or Solas drew him in. All he knew was that he went from standing and staring at the elf to being pressed close in his embrace. Solas was wearing what he knew from his time with Danarius was a very expensive suit and his overcoat was equally as expensive… and very warm. He burrowed further into Solas’ embrace and warmth, knowing he’d be embarrassed about this in the morning but not caring right now.

“Come. It’s cold in here,” Solas said. 

He steered them both down the corridor and Solas to the open door of Fenris’ bedroom. He nudged Fenris towards the bed and while he climbed back in, he stripped off that expensive coat and suit and climbed into the bed as well. He drew Fenris close and chuckled when he buried his face in his neck.

“Thank you,” Fenris murmured. He shifted against the older man then he stilled. “Are you… naked?”

Solas laughed softly. “I was in bed, vhenan, and you know my choice of sleeping attire. Or lack thereof. I’d have worn something less ostentatious than the suit to come over here but I had not yet unpacked.”

Fenris was tired and ached but the knowledge that Solas was naked in his bed made him feel more alert. He raised his head and shifted against Solas with more intent.

“You’re naked.”

Solas went still and his hand rested on his back solidly, keeping him still. “Fenris. You’re tired and hurting.”

“And I can’t sleep.” Fenris pulled back only far enough to strip his underwear off. He smirked and rolled on top of Solas. “This will tire me out properly.”

“Fenedhis,” Solas muttered. “How you tempt me, vhenan.”

“I _am_ trying,” Fenris said.

He suddenly found himself on his back on the bed with Solas lying half on top of him. He could feel Solas’ burgeoning erection against his hip and he shifted into it with a small noise of pleasure.

“Fenris,” Solas breathed, shaking his head slightly. The look on his face was unfathomable but it quickly morphed into one of amusement and lust. “This is not what I intended when I came over here.”

Fenris smirked. “It wasn’t what I intended when I called you. It is what it is.”

“A useful philosophy.” 

Solas cut off any attempt at a reply from Fenris by leaning down and capturing his mouth in a kiss. Fenris returned it fervently and wrapped a hand round Solas’ neck before sliding it up the back of his bald head to deepen the kiss even more. Solas shifted so that he was fully on top of Fenris and they both groaned when that brought their erections together. 

Fenris lost himself in the simple pleasure of kissing Solas as they rocked gently against each other until he finally pulled away and tilted his head back, giving a small cry as he spilled between them. Solas latched onto his neck, kissing and sucking on the skin there until Fenris knew there would be marks tomorrow for Hawke and the others to grin at. He didn’t care right now though and instead ran his hands over Solas’ head and shoulders until his lover shuddered against him and made a low noise as he came as well.

They stayed as they were for a moment then Solas shifted over until he was lying on his side. Fenris reached for his discarded underwear and wiped them both clean before tossing them over the side of the bed. He then curled into Solas again and let the familiar post-coital lassitude sink into him.

“Stay,” he murmured.

“Of course,” Solas replied and just as Fenris slipped into sleep, he could have sworn he heard the older elf say, “Ar lath ma, vhenan.”


	56. Sharp Dressed Man - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today, I put out a [prompt post](http://tellmevarric.tumblr.com/post/148220097193/okay-i-need-prompts-because-i-write-better-on) over on tumblr, which you are all welcome to contribute to! The more, the merrier. Anyway, Anonymous gave me the prompt - "If you're going to dress like that, I'm not letting you out of my sight." For cullrian. Dorian being the jealous one! :)
> 
> This is set post-Trespasser with Cullen and Dorian back in Tevinter. It also nominally happens after [The Door Or The Window?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/17357971) just because that’s the way the story happened.

Cullen was an endless source of frustration for Dorian. On the whole, the man was truly a delight and Dorian loved him more than he’d ever thought possible. Even better, Cullen loved him back just as much and that was a wonder that Dorian never took for granted. After letting himself be convinced by his father and the rest of Tevinter society that love between two men wasn’t possible, to finally have it and what’s more have it be so honest and unconditional was something truly wonderful.

But Cullen could be the stubbornest, most frustrating man Dorian had ever had the pleasure to have in his bed.

Some of his stubbornness Dorian didn’t mind. It was endlessly entertaining to watch Cullen glare menacingly at Magisters who even dared to raise their voice to a slave. After the assassination attempt that Cullen handled with nothing more than a belt knife and one of his old Templar abilities, the Magisters stepped around him very warily. It was a treat to watch, it honestly was. He knew that because Maevaris agreed with him and her opinion was never wrong.

But Cullen could sometimes be stubborn about the most ridiculous things. Like fashion. Or not so much fashion as what was sensible and not sensible to wear in Tevinter. Cullen’s good honest sensible shirts and tunic and breeches were fine for Ferelden and passable in Orlais but in Tevinter, not only did they make him stand out but they were _hot_. The heavy fabrics trapped the heat and humidity and he _knew_ that Cullen suffered terribly during the day. Yet the man refused to even allow Dorian to send for a tailor to measure him for more sensible clothing, let alone have any made up. It drove Dorian utterly mad.

He’d been ranting about it to Mae just the other week until she had finally laughed at him, patted him on the arm and told him to leave it to her. She’d then turned up at their house and spirited Cullen away for a full day. He had no idea what had been said or what they’d done because neither Mae nor Cullen would say anything. Mae just smiled mysteriously at him and Cullen just blushed and stammered and changed the subject. Usually by instigating sex. Which was annoying… well, not annoying, it was _amazing_ , but it was incredibly effective at distracting him and he usually forgot what he’d been asking. And _that_ was annoying.

But now he was pacing in the corridor outside their bedroom as he waited for Cullen. Tonight’s ball was being thrown by the Archon no less and once he’d gotten dressed, he been unceremoniously thrown out of his own bedroom by Cullen and one of the servants for reasons they refused to elaborate on.

He found out why when the door opened and Cullen walked out wearing Tevinter finery to rival his own, finery which left one arm and part of his chest bare. It was made of fine Tevinter silk in black but with Cullen’s signature red and gold as highlights. There was a gold armlet around his bicep and he wore more jewellery than Dorian had ever thought he might be willing to wear. He was even wearing eyeliner and had gold dusted across his cheeks. He looked bashful and a little uncertain.

He looked _stunning_.

“ _Amatus_ ,” Dorian breathed, his eyes wide. “You look…”

“Ridiculous,” Cullen grumbled, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

“No,” Dorian protested. “You look… _gorgeous_.”

Cullen ducked his head, his cheeks going red under the gold dust. He looked at Dorian from under his lashes and managed a small smile.

“Really?” he said plaintively. “Because I feel ridiculous.”

Dorian hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Cullen this whole time. “You look beautiful. Is this… is this what you and Mae were up to last week?”

Cullen nodded bashfully. “Mae insisted. She said my stubbornness was adorable but I was just being stupid.”

Dorian managed a small laugh. He was _still_ staring, he knew it, but Cullen was just… edible. “She has excellent taste.”

Cullen shrugged and seemed surprised at how comfortable that action was in his new outfit. “She said I’d both blend in wearing this and stand out.”

Dorian nodded then a thought occurred to him. If he was rendered damn near speechless by the vision before him, how were the others going to react? Cullen was already considered exotically beautiful here with his pale skin and blond hair and his bashful smiles contrasting with the muscles, callouses and his obvious skill as a warrior. If he turned up looking like _this_ , they were going to be all _over_ him.

“If you're going to dress like that, I'm not letting you out of my sight,” he blurted before he could even think.

Cullen’s gaze flicked up to him and whatever he saw on Dorian’s face made his eyes widen and then he smirked.

“Do you think the Magisters and the rest will find this acceptable?” he said, gesturing to himself with an oh-so-innocent look.

They would. Oh, yes, they very definitely would. They would find it more than acceptable. They would find Cullen to be utterly delectable. 

“Cullen,” he growled and finally broke free of his paralysis. 

He stalked forward and shoved Cullen up against the wall, crowding up against him and sliding one leg between Cullen’s. He paused for just a moment to brush his fingers over the gold dusting Cullen’s cheekbones then leaned in for a kiss. Cullen gripped his hips and kissed him back just as eagerly. When they parted, they were both breathless.

“Of all the times to finally wear proper clothing and you choose _now_ ,” Dorian growled. 

“It had to happen sometime,” Cullen said with a chuckle, his hands still tight on Dorian’s hips.

“Festis bei umo canavarum,” Dorian muttered, letting his forehead drop onto Cullen’s shoulder. “ _Cullen_.”

Cullen chuckled again then gently pushed him away before weaving their fingers together. “Come on. We shouldn’t go from fashionably late to unfashionably late.”

Dorian let himself be drawn down the corridor, still unable to really take his eyes of his lover. Tonight was going to _awful_. More so than usual. He had business to conduct at this party and that meant leaving Cullen to his own devices and how in the _Maker’s_ name was he supposed to do that? Maybe Maevaris would stand guard over Cullen if he asked really nicely? It was worth a try.

“You know, I’m not sure I really want to go anymore,” he said wanly. “Can I undress you instead?”

He managed a small smirk when Cullen’s footsteps stuttered but then the hand in his tightened its grip a little. “Maybe later.”

“Definitely later,” Dorian muttered as they headed out the door for the carriage.


	57. Precious And Mine - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday, I put out a prompt post over on tumblr, which you are still all welcome to contribute to! The more, the merrier. Anyway, Anonymous gave me the prompt - "Why haven't you told your friends about me? Is it because I'm not as well-off as you are?" Cullrian, please? :)
> 
> This is a Modern AU and it starts out angsty but, as per my usual, gets rather fluffy and sweet at the end. :D
> 
> Oh, and warnings for mentions of addiction, withdrawal and serious injury.

“Why haven't you told your friends about me? Is it because I'm not as well-off as you are?”

Dorian paused in the act of putting his phone down on the bench and looked over at the couch in startled surprise. Cullen was half-turned so that he could look at Dorian with one arm curled around the back of the couch. He looked wary and hurt and just a little miserable.

“What?” he said, unsure where this had come from.

Cullen’s expression became even more miserable. “You just told whoever you were talking to that you were on your own.”

Dorian blinked and ran through the conversation he’d just had in his mind. Alexius had asked him if he was busy and could spare a moment and he’d… told him that it was fine, he was just relaxing at home. He’d made no mention of the fact that he had an utterly gorgeous man on his couch whom he adored and who made him happier than he could ever remember being in his entire life. He’d just said he was relaxing at home and the implications were that he was alone. 

And now that he’d thought about it, he actually _hadn’t_ told any of his friends about Cullen. Not even Felix knew. Oh, Felix knew that he was seeing someone but he didn’t know who it was or that it was serious.

“Amatus,” he said, a little at a loss for words. He hurried over to the couch and sat down. From the look on Cullen’s face, he’d better handle this well or he was going to be out one boyfriend. He caught Cullen’s hands in his own and squeezed them gently. “I… I know I haven’t but it’s not like that.”

Cullen looked down. He looked unhappy and his cheeks were red. Dorian had to admit that the worn jeans and the red flannel shirt Cullen was wearing had seen better days and the boots that were sitting next to his own obscenely expensive shoes in the entry way were worn to a woof but… he had never cared one bit about that. Cullen had done things tough since he’d left the military with an honourable discharge and a morphine addiction courtesy of the carelessness of the doctors who had treated his injuries. (And no, it wasn’t _really_ carelessness, not really, Dorian _knew_ that, the doctors had just been overly generous with the morphine due to the extreme pain Cullen had been in and the doubt in the beginning over whether he was even going to _survive_ to have to worry about addiction but really, they should have been more careful.) A morphine addiction that had turned into a lyrium addiction once he’d been discharged from hospital and had lost access to the morphine. He was only now starting to re-establish himself, clean and clear and proud of who he was once more.

Dorian had met him at the local coffee shop where Cullen worked as a barista to make ends meet as he completed a college degree in law and jurisprudence with the aim of heading into some sort of law enforcement when he was done. Dorian had been instantly taken with the quietly spoken man with the riot of blond curls and the scarred lip. The bashful smiles that occasionally morphed into tiny smirks and the sharp chess skills that left him scowling at yet another loss on the chess board had just been an added bonus. He’d flirted shamelessly with Cullen for weeks before Cullen had startled him by asking him out on a date to a local film festival.

Never once had Cullen’s financial situation come up in his thoughts, except perhaps on the occasions he stayed at Cullen’s flat and that was only because Cullen’s flatmate was prone to awful jokes and having very loud sex with his tattooed, white-haired boyfriend. Also because Hawke’s jokes, while mostly good-natured, occasionally drifted over into territory that was obviously making Cullen uncomfortable and Dorian hated that. He was certain Hawke didn’t mean it since the few times he’d done that when Fenris was there, the slim man had nudged his boyfriend into confused silence. So, his only real thoughts were wishing Cullen had a place of his own or wondering when it would be socially acceptable to ask Cullen to move in with him.

“What is it like then?” Cullen asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. “You’ve met most of my friends but I haven’t met a single one of yours. You didn’t even invite me to that gala thing you had last month. What am I supposed to think?”

Dorian stared at him with dismay and then he groaned and ducked his head. He raised one of Cullen’s hands and pressed a kiss to his knuckles before turning it over and kissing his palm.

“Oh, Amatus,” he said as he raised his head. He gave a wan smile. “Can we just both remember that I can be an enormous ass?”

He got a faint smile from Cullen from that but it was soon lost in the unhappiness again. “Alright.”

“That was Alexius on the phone,” he said slowly. “He has always supported me, even when I left home so precipitously, and he has never had the usual Tevinter attitude regarding my preferences.” 

He licked his lips and Cullen squeezed his hand. It made him want to cry a little that even in the midst of his own, not unwarranted unhappiness, Cullen was still willing and able to try and make him feel better. He truly did not deserve this man. 

He drew in a breath and continued, “But he is still friends with my parents and he still talks to them. I didn’t tell him… I _haven’t_ told him because… I don’t want him to tell them.” He gave Cullen a pleading look. “You don’t know what they’re like. As long as they still think I’m…” He blushed and looked away, feeling a little ashamed of what he used to be like. “…I’m fucking everything that moves, they can still delude themselves into thinking I might come home like a good boy and marry the woman they’ve lined up for me. But if they know that I… that I’m _serious_ about someone.” He turned to look at Cullen, wanting him to see that he meant what he said. “That I _love_ someone, a _man_ , I… I don’t know what they’d do but it wouldn’t be pleasant and it wouldn’t be aimed just at me.” He grimaced. “They’d… they’d look into your background, Cullen, and they’d use it against you.”

He dropped his gaze to their joined hands. “And yes, I know it was cowardly of me. I should have told Alexius and simply asked him not to say anything to my parents. I know he’d respect my request but I…” He looked up again. Cullen’s expression was stunned now, wide-eyed and startled, and he wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not so he continued, “This… _us_ … is too precious to me. I didn’t want to take the risk.”

Cullen was silent and Dorian hurried onwards, wanting to fill the silence because it scared him. He didn’t know what it meant or what Cullen was going to say.

“As for my friends…” He smiled ruefully. “That was me being selfish. I _know_ they’ll like you. They’ll _adore_ you and you’re so _competent_ and _capable_ and I know Vivienne and Josephine and Leliana will think you’re amazing and want to offer you a job and _steal_ you from me. Which is stupid, I know, because they wouldn’t really but you’re _mine_ and they’re so _grabby_. And I’m being stupid and selfish, I _know_ , but I kept telling myself I’d tell them and invite them round for dinner so you could meet them and then I’d delay it just a bit more and a bit more so I could keep you for myself.”

He looked up and Cullen was smiling at him with the fond exasperation he’d become used to since they’d been together and a wild wave of relief washed through him at that. Because that expression had never prefaced anything bad so it surely wouldn’t now.

“The gala though…” He looked a little shamefaced. “That _was_ about the money. It was black-tie and I _know_ you don’t own a tux because I’ve seen what’s in your wardrobe and I didn’t want you to feel obligated to buy one or hire one and spend money that could be better used on your education or your rent.” He huffed. “And since you never let me buy you anything other than _dinner_ , I was fairly certain you wouldn’t let me buy you a _tuxedo_.”

Cullen chuckled softly and Dorian thought it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. Because if Cullen was laughing, he wasn’t mad.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t have allowed you to buy me a tuxedo but I do have a dress uniform I could have worn,” Cullen said. “The gala would have fallen under the rules of when I can wear it now that I’m retired.”

“Oh.” Dorian’s brain derailed slightly at the mental image of Cullen in his dress uniform. He’d seen it hanging in Cullen’s wardrobe, neatly pressed and protected in a suit bag. It just hadn’t occurred to him that he might still wear it. “You, uh, you could wear it for me?” he blurted before he could think better of it.

He was rewarded by Cullen’s delightful blush as the man seemed to understand what he was really saying. Then Cullen smirked at him.

“You might get lucky.”

It took a moment for Dorian to get his mind out of the gutter and back on track and on topic. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t good enough for me because that is absolutely, utterly, completely untrue. If anything, I don’t deserve you.”

Cullen made a small sound of protest and cradled his face with one hand, drawing him into a warm, gentle kiss. “Let’s not get started on that again, love.”

Dorian chuckled and crawled into Cullen’s lap, wrapping his arms around the man and sighing contentedly when Cullen did the same to him. He pulled back just far enough to place his hands on either side of Cullen’s face and gently caress his cheeks with his thumbs.

“Can you forgive me?” he said softly.

Cullen smiled. “Yes. And…” he flushed. “I love you too.”

Dorian went still then he also blushed as he realised that in the middle of that outpouring of emotion, he’d openly admitted for the first time that he loved Cullen. He’d known how he felt but _saying_ it to Cullen had been more difficult than he’d thought it would be.

“It’s not the way I would have preferred to say it to you,” he said ruefully. “But I do mean it. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I do love you.”

Cullen pulled him into a kiss that quickly turned heated given where Dorian was sitting. When they separated, they were both a bit breathless and very turned on.

“I’m going to host a dinner party next week,” Dorian murmured between kisses. “Are you free on Friday?”

Cullen moaned as Dorian shifted in his lap. “I’ll think about it.”

It took a moment to penetrate Dorian’s lust-addled brain then he pulled back with an outraged expression. “You’ll _think_ about it?” he said in a scandalised tone as Cullen tilted his head back and laughed. “Put me through all of that and then say I’ll _think_ about it.”

Cullen slid a hand round the back of his neck and silenced his grumbling with a kiss. “I’d love to come and meet your friends.”

Dorian smiled softly. “Good.”


	58. Good Morning - Male Mage Adaar/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from my prompt post. athos-silvani asked for: Teodor Adaar/Dorian Pavus with "Your bed-head is really cute"
> 
> This is set just after Dorian and Teodor first get together. It is NSFW for sex and Dorian’s filthy mouth. :D

For all that he’d been a mercenary for almost ten years, Teodor wasn’t very fond of mornings. Or early mornings at least. Mornings where he could sleep in well past dawn weren’t too bad but Shokrakar had _definitely_ been a morning person and thus had the entire company up, greeting the dawn practically every day. That was definitely one advantage to being Inquisitor. He could and did request that Josephine not schedule meetings before mid-morning at the earliest as much as possible.

Right now, he was enjoying his morning a little more than usual even though he was awake perhaps a little earlier than he’d prefer to be. This morning he wasn’t alone in his bed and even better, it was _Dorian_ who was lying beside him, sprawled on his stomach, dead to the world, the sheet bunched tantalisingly below his waist. Teodor propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at the mage with a soft, fond smile.

When Dorian had come to his room the previous night, the culmination of far too many weeks of dancing around each other and some admittedly very lovely stolen kisses, he’d expected the sex. The revelation of Dorian’s insecurities and worries had been the unexpected but, oddly enough, welcome part of the evening. He was glad Dorian had told him and not simply stewed on the matter. That way led to misunderstandings and pain. Teodor had some experience with that and did not want to repeat it.

Dorian had been so sweet last night after they’d talked, after he’d said he wanted more than a mere tumble between the sheets. Teodor had discovered that, for all his smirks and his sly comments and innuendo, Dorian was really very sweet and responsive in bed. After what he’d said, it wasn’t hard to work out why. He wanted to be loved. Openly, unconditionally, without secrets and without hiding. Without feeling ashamed of who he was and who he loved. 

Teodor chuckled softly and ran a hand down Dorian’s back, enjoying the way the mage arched into the touch in his sleep. Luckily for Dorian, Teodor had a tendency to get _very_ attached to those he loved and he’d known he was in love with Dorian for quite some time. At least he had his explanation now as to why Dorian had been so skittish about getting closer.

Dorian mumbled and shifted, turning his head towards Teodor and hitching one leg up a little. That had the delightful side effect of causing the sheet to slip a little further down and reveal just the top of Dorian’s arse. Teodor ran his fingers back up the mage’s spine and then caressed the back of his neck, just below his hairline.

“Mmm, that does feel good,” came the low murmur and Teodor looked down to see Dorian’s eyes just slitted open.

“Good morning,” Teodor said affectionately. “Your bed-head is really cute.”

Dorian yawned lazily. “If I have bed-head, it is strictly your fault.” He sounded more amused than put out.

Teodor chuckled and lowered himself down so that he was on his side. He slid his hand up into Dorian’s hair and mussed it up a little more. “I like your hair.”

Dorian made a contented noise, like a well-satisfied cat and shifted only far enough to shove Teodor onto his back and drape himself over his chest. “If last night is any indication, you like a great deal more than my hair.”

Teodor shifted Dorian so that he was lying fully on top of him, something that made the mage squeak then gingerly settle down when Teodor began running one huge hand down his back in long, gentle strokes.

“You’re right about that,” Teodor replied, amiable and happy to settle into the lazy mood that seemed prevalent right now. “Your moustache as all out of place as well.”

Dorian grumbled at that but all he did was run his hands along Teodor’s chest and arms before sliding them up around his shoulders and head until he could brush his fingers over the base of Teodor’s horns and when Teodor shuddered underneath him, he smirked.

“Hmm, I thought that was what happened last night.” He arched an eyebrow. “You distracted me before I could confirm it.”

Teodor made a low noise as Dorian continued to caress the sensitive skin at the base of his horns. “You didn’t seem to mind.” He rolled his hips up to grind his rapidly hardening cock against his lover’s. “Ungh, Dorian.”

He felt Dorian tense up on top of him and wrapped his arms around the smaller man. Dorian immediately relaxed and Teodor smiled.

“Hmm,” Dorian said in a deceptively idle tone. His dilated eyes gave away the fact that he was becoming as aroused as he was making Teodor. “I’m beginning to understand why ‘riding the Bull’ might be considered an experience.”

Teodor hummed and let one hand drift down to cup Dorian’s arse. “You can ride me later. If you want. S’okay if you don’t. I’m big. Some men don’t like that.”

Dorian arched up into Teodor’s hand then made a noise of satisfaction when the Vashoth tightened his grip and pulled his hips tight against his own.

“Oh, I want to,” he moaned as he began to speed up their movements. “I want you _in_ me. I want to _feel_ how big you are. Not just your fingers but that lovely big cock. Been a long time since I couldn’t swallow down someone’s cock. My jaw still aches this morning. It’s _lovely_.”

Teodor groaned and brought his other hand up to Dorian’s arse, holding him in place as he thrust up. “Should have known you’d have a filthy mouth.”

“I can get filthier,” Dorian began but anything else he was planning to say was cut off when Teodor lunged up to kiss him.

The kiss was wet and sloppy and as filthy as the words Dorian was promising. The way Teodor was rutting up against him was driving them both towards the edge faster than they’d expected and when he pressed one large finger against Dorian’s entrance, the mage couldn’t stop the orgasm that rolled over him. He pulled away from the kiss and cried out Teodor’s name as he shuddered and spilled between them. Teodor continued thrusting into the warm slick then his hands tightened almost painfully on Dorian’s arse as he came. Teodor then relaxed and patted Dorian’s arse in gentle apology as Dorian pressed kisses to whatever skin he could reach.

“Mmm,” Teodor hummed half-sleep in the aftermath. “That made it a very good morning.”

“And a sticky one,” Dorian replied, sounding both amused and slightly discomforted.

Teodor hummed and then forced himself not to fall asleep. “We should clean up. And get up. Before Josephine sends some poor servant to be traumatised by your naked arse.”

“Traumatised!” Dorian squawked indignantly. “I’ll have you know this arse is perfection.”

Teodor grinned at his lover and ran a hand over said arse. “It is rather lovely.” He smacked it gently. “But now it has to move.”

“Brute,” Dorian complained, though Teodor didn’t miss both the laughter in his eyes and voice and the glint that had come with the smack. He filed _that_ away to be explored at some later time. “Assaulting me and then kicking me out of bed.”

Teodor rolled them over and laughed as Dorian yelped and flailed. He smiled down at his lover and waited for him to settle down. When he did, Dorian couldn’t help but smile back.

“Ridiculous man,” Dorian grumbled. 

“I’ll wear it,” Teodor said before leaning down and kissing Dorian.

They stayed like that for several minutes, trading kisses and smiles and soft words, before Teodor finally pulled back and sat up. He ran a hand down Dorian’s flank then offered that hand to pull him upright as well.

“Will you come back tonight?”

Dorian hesitated and that hesitation that had reared its head last night was suddenly back. “You… want that?”

Teodor tucked his fingers under Dorian’s chin and raised his head so that he could kiss him again. “Dorian, if I had my way, you’d be in my bed _every_ night.”

Dorian’s eyes widened and he blushed a little. “Oh.”

Teodor chuckled and kissed him again before standing up with a groan and stretching. “Yes. Oh.” He turned to see Dorian watching him with open appreciation. “I don’t want to hide this, Dorian.”

He could see the hope and disbelief warring on Dorian’s face and he turned towards the bathtub Josephine had obtained for him, preparing to fill it with his usual ice-then-fire trick. He let Dorian cogitate on what he’d said, well prepared to allow his lover the time he needed to come to terms with what he was offering.

“I trust that bath is big enough for two?” Dorian said when it was full of steaming water.

Teodor turned to find Dorian sashaying towards him, his cock half-hard once again, and he grinned and held out his hand. “Let’s find out.”


	59. Five Minutes - Male Rogue Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another one from my prompt post. For this one earlgreyer1 asked for - Mahanon Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford: “Why is your hand on my ass?”
> 
> And that, my friends, is a question for the ages. :D
> 
> This is set at the Winter Palace and it’s a little suggestive in places but it should be safe for work really.

There were many places Cullen would rather be than the Winter Palace. A battlefield, buried under a mountain of paperwork, even back on the parade ground where he’d been a trainee having his faults and flaws being pointed out to him by the Knight-Lieutenant in charge of their training. Any one of those places would be preferable to standing in the damnable ballroom of the Winter Palace, trying to fend off the not-so-subtle enquiries regarding his marital status and the roaming hands of overly friendly nobles.

So when Mahanon came wandering over to talk, scattering the surrounding nobles with a casual smile and wave of his hand, he could almost have hugged the man. From the look on his face, his lover was well aware of how he felt and he rolled his eyes as the Inquisitor moved to stand next to him so that he could keep an eye on the ballroom.

“Having fun, vhenan?”

“That depends on your definition of _fun_ ,” Cullen said dryly. “By my definition? No, most emphatically not.”

“But you’re so popular,” Mahanon protested. “Especially with the ladies.”

Cullen was about to make a flippant reply when he became aware of two things. The first was the dangerous look in Mahanon’s eyes and the tight tone of his voice that practically screamed the sort of jealousy and possessiveness that lead to him coercing Cullen into having sex on Madame Vivienne’s balcony. Well, _coerce_ perhaps wasn’t the word since he hadn’t exactly needed much persuading but that was beside the point. The second thing he’d become aware of – and he probably shouldn’t have been that surprised given what was apparently Mahanon’s mood right now – was the current location of the Inquisitor’s right hand.

He cleared his throat pointedly, “If I may ask, Inquisitor, why is your hand on my ass?”

“Because your ass belongs to _me_ and I saw that nobleman fondling it earlier,” Mahanon said firmly.

Cullen was silent as he contemplated that response. Also because Mahanon had gone from simply having a hand on his ass to actually fondling it in a far more welcome fashion than that of the Orlesian nobleman in question.

“Inquisitor,” he began but Mahanon immediately cut him off.

“Let me have this, Cullen,” he said in a tight tone. “I’ve had a very frustrating evening of being called knife ear and rabbit and running all over this damn palace trying to find a damn assassin. I’d really just like to have five minutes to stand next to my lover and fondle his ass. If that’s not too much to ask.”

Cullen was silent for a moment. “Well, when you put it that way, then by all me- _eans_!” His voice slid a little higher on that last word when Mahanon’s hand strayed from his arse to slide between his legs for a brief moment then he coughed and just _knew_ he was blushing. “That, uh, wasn’t my ass.”

A quick glance to the side revealed that Mahanon had a tiny serene smile on his face as he looked over the crowd in the ballroom.

“I know,” the Inquisitor said. “Let’s just call that a… sneak preview for later, shall we?”

“If you like.” Cullen cleared his throat again. “I, uh, look forward to it.”

That got him a genuine smile from Mahanon, which he counted as being entirely worth the vivid blush that he knew was staining his cheeks red and crawling down his neck. It also made his rapidly tightening breeches entirely worth it, though he did thank the Maker, Josephine and Vivienne that the jacket had been cut long enough to conceal that particular fact.

Finally, after the requisite five minutes, Mahanon gave his ass one last gentle pat then withdrew his hand.

“Well, time to get back into it,” he said with a sigh. “Though if I get called rabbit one more time…” Mahanon gave him one last tiny smile then he stepped away and said, rather officially, “Thank you, Commander.”

“Always, Inquisitor,” Cullen said, inclining his head slightly.

Mahanon’s eyes gleamed with laughter then he was gone into the crowd. Cullen watched him go then wedged himself a little more firmly into the corner as the nobles started to close in again. After that very pleasant five minutes, he’d rather not get any more pinches or pats from anyone else.


	60. The Dance - Fenris/Solas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another one from my prompt post. This one was from athos-silvani who asked for Fenris/Solas with “Right… Well… I’m not sure how we ended up kissing like that…”
> 
> This is set in the same universe as [The Call](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/17382475) and is the first meeting between Fenris and Solas in that ‘verse.

Fenris hated it when he let Hawke talk him into things like this, though to be honest he wasn’t sure whether he hated himself for agreeing or Hawke for turning on the irresistible charm. Either way, he’d somehow found himself agreeing to attend a _very_ high society party in order to try and find out who was blackmailing their client. He was attending in the company of Isabela and she was doing a far better job of fitting in than he was. It had been startling to see the usually lush and open Isabela turn up looking like the most demure of high society ladies but somehow she carried it off. Fenris, on the other hand, felt entirely out of place in his exceedingly expensive (rented) tuxedo. Isabela had assured him he looked the part, he just wasn’t very good at _playing_ the part.

“Try some of the wine.”

He gave a start and somehow managed to curtail the curse that was on the tip of his tongue. He looked around and saw an elf holding out a glass of the very excellent red wine they were serving tonight.

He hesitated for a moment then took the glass with a small nod. “Thank you.”

He eyed the elf curiously. He was older than him, though the bald head meant he couldn’t quite put a definite age. Forties maybe. He was dressed in an impeccable tuxedo that was of a somewhat older cut than the one Fenris was wearing. It was the Inquisition pin on his lapel that gave at least some sort of answer as to why he was attending the party.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions,” the elf said very dryly though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes that softened any censure his words might suggest about Fenris’ lack of appropriate manners.

“Fenris,” he said with an awkward nod of his head.

“I see you are as… enamoured with this sort of entertainment as I am,” Solas said. “Though your companion appears to be enjoying herself.”

Fenris looked around and saw Isabela was dancing with their prime blackmailing suspect. She was laughing in a delicate manner that was very uncharacteristic and seemingly enormously effective as the man seemed utterly charmed by her. He knew he should be approaching their other suspect but one look at the man when he’d seen him earlier had had him shuddering away. The man bore a striking resemblance to Danarius and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to maintain any sort of façade for long enough to garner any sort of information. He hated having to let down Hawke but he knew the other man would understand once he explained the problem.

“She likes dancing,” Fenris said, aware he ought to at least try and keep the conversation going.

Solas raised an eyebrow. “You can’t dance?”

“I can dance,” Fenris replied, wincing as he remembered how and why he knew how to dance. “I just don’t like it very much.”

“Is it the dancing itself or the potential partner?” 

Solas’ eyes flickered over to their other suspect and Fenris tensed, suddenly feeling just a fraction trapped and wondering what Solas actually wanted.

“I only ask,” Solas continued, “because I was considering asking you to dance. However if it is the dancing you dislike, I will refrain.”

Fenris gave the older elf a startled look, trying to determine if he was serious or not. He certainly seemed to be sincere and he took an overly large gulp of his wine as he gathered his composure again.

“It’s…” He hesitated, wavering between the truth and a lie and wondering which would be the wisest. Eventually he decided on the truth. “The potential partner.”

Solas seemed to realise the struggle he’d just fought and smiled slightly. He gently plucked the wine glass from Fenris’ fingers and set both glasses aside on a small plinth. He then held one hand out in an elegant gesture.

“Then… may I have this dance, Fenris?”

Fenris nodded and allowed himself to be lead out onto the dance floor. It took a moment to dredge the steps of the dance out of his memory and then a few moments more to shake the bad memories free of them but Solas waited patiently until he nodded and then led them into the dance. 

“You’re very good,” Solas said after a moment. “Can you lead as well as follow?”

Fenris nodded. “I was taught both.”

“Useful.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Isabela and their prime suspect danced past them and Isabela let her façade drop just long enough to wink saucily at him before she was once again the fine society lady. He knew she’d have seen the mark he was supposed to chasing down and what’s more she’d know why he hadn’t approached him. She was the only one who had met Danarius and knew what he was like. That saucy wink was her way of saying she understood… and that she approved of his current dance partner.

“So,” Solas said, his tone dropping considerably. “What interest does Hawke have in Ser Varnell?”

It was only muscle memory and his own self-control that enabled Fenris to keep moving through the steps of the dance. He knew his must have looked shocked but he quickly got his expression under control as well.

“What interest is it to you?” he snapped, remembering at the last minute to keep his voice down low enough that the other dancers couldn’t hear him.

Solas began to steer them towards the edge of the dance floor and Fenris let him. They ended up near the doors that led out onto one of the balconies around the room. Solas nodded towards the balcony and they made their way through the crowd. Once outside, Solas closed the doors and did… something Fenris couldn’t see.

“There. Now we won’t be disturbed.” Solas turned around and arched an eyebrow. “Are you going to answer me?”

“Why should I?”

Solas smiled slightly and came closer. “I can assure you that you are not in trouble.” He tapped the pin on his lapel. “I am sure you noticed this earlier. Ser Varnell has come to the attention of the Inquisition and we simply wish to know whether we can help you.”

Fenris gave him a suspicious look. “Why?”

Solas moved to his side and leaned against the balustrade, his hand coming to rest on his arm. Fenris tensed and wondered what Solas was doing until he realised that while they weren’t in full view of the ballroom, they _could_ still be seen if someone walked past the doors. Solas was giving any spectator a reason for them being there. He hesitated for a moment then angled himself towards Solas in a manner that made the older elf smile approvingly.

“As I said, Ser Varnell has come to our attention.” Solas raised a hand and brushed his fingers over Fenris’ cheek. “But not in any immediate or important fashion. We have no plans to make any moves against him but we _do_ have some information that might be of use, depending on what you are doing.”

Fenris shivered at Solas’ touch then wondered _why_ it was having such an effect when he knew it was just for show. The older elf was handsome, he’d admit that, and there was an air about him that was… compelling. Fenris rarely allowed anyone to get this close to him, even Hawke, whom he trusted absolutely. But ow he found his gaze drifting down to Solas’ lips and he wondered what it might feel like to be kissed by him. He shoved those thoughts away and concentrated on what he was doing.

“We believe he’s blackmailing our client,” he admitted, hoping Hawke wouldn’t be angry at him. The Inquisition was new in town and they’d been eyeing the new organisations activities warily. They _seemed_ to be fairly altruistic but Hawke had wanted to know what was going on underneath the surface before he fully trusted them. “Whose name I will _not_ give you.”

Solas nodded, unperturbed. “He is? Or Mother Petrice is?”

Fenris snorted. “It’s one and the same, is it not?”

“That is true,” Solas said with a chuckle. “You are certain of this?”

Fenris shook his head. “Not entirely. That’s why we’re here tonight.”

Solas glanced towards the ballroom, though Isabela and Varnell couldn’t be seen from where they were. “Your colleague should have some success, I believe.” He turned back to Fenris. “I will tell Trevelyan about this. I suspect she will see that our information gets to Hawke. It will be easier for you to deal with them than us.” He smiled slightly. “We are too new in town to have the required contacts at the moment.”

Fenris nodded. “I’ll tell Hawke.”

Solas leaned in closer and Fenris shuddered then closed the gap between them. He pressed his lips against the older elf’s clumsily then Solas’ hand was cradling his face, moving his head just so and turning the kiss from awkward to searingly hot in the matter of seconds. Fenris moaned into the kiss and when Solas nipped at his bottom lip, he opened and allowed him to deepen the kiss. He felt the edge of the balustrade against his back and he clutched at Solas’ jacket as they continued to devour each other’s mouths. They finally parted, both a little breathless, and Fenris licked his lips.

“Right… Well…” He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure how we ended up kissing like that…”

Solas chuckled and took half a step back, allowing Fenris his space but making it clear he was not rejecting him. “I’m not certain either but I have no complaints.”

Fenris licked his lips. Part of him very much wanted to go back to kissing Solas, as mad as that idea now seemed to be to him. Solas was part of the Inquisition and Fenris knew, with his background, that he should steer well clear of him but… he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It wasn’t just the kiss either, as good as that had been. It was the way he’d been respectful of Fenris’ limits and edges without knowing what had caused them. However, he wasn’t here for his own pleasure, he was working.

“I should…” He gestured towards the ballroom. “I should not leave Isabela alone.”

Once again, Solas seemed to understand what he was saying. “Of course.” He pulled out a card from his inside pocket along with a pen and scrawled a number on the back. “This is my cell phone number. I would hope that you might call me when you aren’t working.”

Fenris took the card and stared at it as though it was a mirage. He then tucked it into his pocket and nodded once to Solas. He headed for the door and paused with his hand on the doorhandle. He looked back and saw that Solas was watching him with an indecipherable expression on his face. He turned quickly and opened the door, hurrying back into the ballroom to find Isabela and see how she was faring.


	61. I'm Tired Of Leaving - Fenris/Solas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And yet another from my prompt post. This one was requested by athos-silvani - Fenris/Solas, "I think I’ve crossed the line from sexually frustrated to sexually furious."
> 
> This one is also in the same universe as [The Call](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/17382475) and [The Dance](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523040/chapters/17456482) and slides in between those two fics. It deals with Fenris’ brands so there are mentions of Danarius who is still a dick in this ‘verse.

Fenris had no idea what he was doing with his life. It sounded a bit melodramatic but he couldn’t deny that there was quite a bit of truth to it. Work-wise, everything was as good as it had ever been. They kept busy, Hawke kept him and Anders and Merril as far apart as possible and he tried not to laugh too much at Hawke’s awful jokes because honestly the man did not need any more encouragement. It was his personal life that had him so utterly baffled and confused.

He had called Solas. Well, texted him but it had the same result. He’d taken nearly a week to do so and he’d thought himself mad when he had but… he hadn’t been able to get the older elf out of his thoughts. Not to mention he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss. It had been… _good_ and Fenris wanted more. Which scared him in many ways because he hadn’t let anyone that close since he’d escaped from Danarius, not even Isabela and she’d made more than one no-strings-attached offer that had tempted him. But with one dance and one kiss Solas had wriggled his way past so many of Fenris’ defences that he hardly knew how to react.

So he’d texted him. Short, noncommittal but a text. Solas had replied almost immediately and things had gone from there. At first it had just been texting, awkward and stilted sentences had become easy conversation and Fenris had even felt able to rant and complain about his colleagues and about things he worried about, like magic. There had been a break when Solas had admitted that he was a mage but Solas had been respectful and had simply waited until Fenris had turned that over in his head enough times to reach out again.

Eventually texts had become coffee meetings and then they’d gone on their first official ‘date’. It hadn’t gone well. Solas had asked so he’d picked the restaurant. Fenris hadn’t expected anything so grand so while he’d been wearing the best he had, that best had consisted of trousers and a nice wool sweater that Bethany had given him last Christmas. He’d looked hideously out of place among the suits and fancy frocks being worn by everyone else in the restaurant and he’d been so uncomfortable that they’d had to leave. Solas had apologised profusely for his error but it had been a setback.

Accepting the second date had taken more courage than Fenris had expected but this one had been to a film festival that he’d mentioned in passing a few weeks before. The date had gone considerably better and Solas had suggested he pick where they would eat. He hadn’t taken Solas to his favourite place because there was no way at least one of his friends wouldn’t be there and this was too new, too… strange to be allowed to be ruined by their overwhelming enthusiasm. They’d instead gone to a small Italian place he knew had good food. He’d expected Solas to be disdainful but the other elf had simply smiled and enthused about the quality of food.

From there they’d graduated to Solas inviting Fenris over to his place and cooking for him. He was an excellent cook and though Fenris didn’t always know what was being served to him, he had yet to hit anything he didn’t like. The frustrating thing about this new style of ‘date’ was that they… ended. They had dinner, they talked, occasionally they even pulled themselves away from their discussion to watch a movie and they always kissed but things never went further. Whenever he tentatively suggested he had to leave, Solas backed off and let him. He wasn’t sure how to ask to stay, to ask for _more_ and it was getting beyond frustrating.

Especially on nights like tonight when Solas had relegated him to sitting at the counter with a glass of wine while he cooked. Solas was barefoot and while he was still wearing his suit pants, he had rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up and had the top couple of buttons undone. Fenris might not know what this was between them or where it was going but he _did_ know what he wanted. He just didn’t know how to get it.

“I think I’ve crossed the line from sexually frustrated to sexually furious,” he muttered half under his breath as he took a sip of his wine and watched Solas move around the kitchen with a grace that was entrancing.

It was only when Solas suddenly stuttered in his movements that he remembered how keen the other elf’s hearing was. Before he could do or say anything, Solas set aside the wooden spoon he was holding and turned around. He looked curious and faintly amused as he walked over and leaned against the counter.

“I didn’t know there was such a thing as sexually furious,” he said, the faint amusement becoming more overt in his tiny smirk. “I’m curious as to how such a thing manifests.”

Fenris stared at him, knowing he was blushing, then he downed the remains of his wine and slid off the stool he’d been sitting on. He prowled around the counter, taking some pride in the way Solas’ eyes dilated and the smirk slid off his face to be replaced with eager anticipation. He pushed Solas back against the counter and slid one leg between his. He then closed the gap between them until their lips were barely brushing.

“Something like this,” he growled, letting his voice drop into a lower timbre that drew a shiver from Solas.

He closed the remaining gap between then and kissed Solas, grinding his hips against the other man’s as he did. He felt a surge of triumph when his actions drew a low noise of want and desire from the other man then Solas was pulling away, his hands tight on Fenris’ hips to stop him moving.

“Fenris… da’len…” he began, his voice more than a little hoarse and his expression open and full of want. 

Fenris felt a surge of elation at the visible and audible evidence of Solas’ shattered composure. “What?” he said, not really wanting to talk now that he finally had Solas where he wanted him.

“Da’len, please,” Solas said, visibly pulling himself together. Fenris stilled with a small frown and Solas gave him a small nod of thanks. “It is not that I have not wanted this, vhenan. My hesitation comes because…” He paused and Fenris suddenly had an idea of what this was about and he tensed, his expression shuttering. “I have noticed that my touch on your markings has appeared to… cause you pain.”

So Solas _had_ noticed. Fenris had hoped his occasional flinch had been covered by his obvious enthusiasm for what they were doing. He should have known Solas’ sharp eyes would pick it up. Now he had a choice whether to lie or not, except it wasn’t much of a choice really. He _knew_ how Solas would react to such a lie.

“It… does,” he admitted reluctantly. He tightened his grip on Solas when the elf tried to move away and kept him where he was. “It is of no concern.”

Solas frowned. “On the contrary, Fenris, it is of great concern. I have no wish to hurt you, no matter what the reason.”

Fenris glared at him then he tore himself away with a growl of frustration and started to pace. “Then we will never do _anything_ , Solas, because they _hurt_. That is a fact of life. Sometimes the pain is barely noticeable and sometimes it is unbearable but it _never_ stops.”

He turned and saw the look of horror and anger on Solas’ face and he sighed and came to a halt. He leaned with both hands on the bench and let his head hang.

“They hurt,” he repeated wearily. “Danarius didn’t really know what he was doing when he had the lyrium tattooed into my skin. It was an experiment for him, a life sentence for me. Yes, touching them makes them flare up and hurt more but it passes, especially with you. You must have noticed that.” He turned around and leaned on the bench, his expression tired and defiant. “But if you’re hesitating because you don’t want me to hurt, you’re about ten years too late.”

“Oh, vhenan,” Solas breathed. He came over and ran his fingers gently over Fenris’ cheek. “Forgive me. In trying not to hurt you physically, I have hurt you in other ways.”

Fenris leaned into the touch and opened his eyes. “I want you. I don’t give a damn if it hurts because it doesn’t last long and that’s… _never_ happened before with a mage. I don’t know what it means and I don’t _care_ what it means. I’m _tired_ of leaving at the end of the night.”

Solas closed his eyes and was silent for a moment. When he opened his eyes again, he also smiled. “Then do not. But tonight, let me feed you first. I would not want you running out of energy at a crucial moment.”

Fenris relaxed and chuckled. He leaned in to steal a quick kiss then he returned to his seat at the counter. “Alright then. Feed me.”


	62. Morals And Standards - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for my previous prompt post over on tumblr. The prompt was: "I have no morals, kind of like how you have no standards" for Cullrian.
> 
> This is set in a sort of Modern Thedas AU setting and combines everyone from Inquisition and DA2. There’s also a small amount of swearing and mentions of some of Dorian and Fenris’ pasts.

Cullen had been speaking to Cassandra when he saw Dorian stalking out of the pub with a stormy expression on his face. He glanced around at the rest of the group and didn’t see anything unusual but he knew his lover, he wouldn’t leave like that – without Cullen – with no cause.

“Cass,” he began and she smiled.

“Go.”

He didn’t wait for anything more. He pushed his way through the crowd and out the door Dorian had taken. He gave a sigh of relief when he saw Dorian pacing back and forth in the car park, smoking furiously. He grimaced at that. Dorian had given up nearly a year ago, unable, as he’d put it, to deal with Cullen’s sad puppy eyes whenever he lit up. That he’d decided to start up again tonight was not a good sign.

“Dorian?” he said hesitantly as he approached. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Dorian snapped, an edge of nastiness in his voice that Cullen hadn’t heard since the early days of their relationship when Dorian had still been trying to push him away. “You should go back inside. It’s _your_ party after all.”

He stepped forward into Dorian’s path and stopped him. Dorian glared at him then turned away. He didn’t start pacing again but he did smoke his cigarette a little more obnoxiously.

“Dorian,” he said patiently. “What’s wrong?”

Dorian was silent then he sneered. “Well, apparently _I_ have no morals, kind of like how _you_ have no standards.”

Cullen blinked and then frowned. “What?” He shook his head and stepped closer, placing his hand on Dorian’s shoulder. He could feel the way Dorian tensed under his touch but he didn’t drawn back. “What happened, Dorian? Please, tell me.”

“They’re your friends,” Dorian said, sounding stiff and uncertain.

“If they’re being rude to you then no, they’re not,” Cullen said firmly. “What was said?”

Dorian stared down at the ground. “One of them knew something of my past,” he said with great reluctance. “My… rebellion against my father.”

Cullen’s lips thinned. He knew what Dorian was referring to – his several month long jaunt through the brothels and bawdy houses of Minrathous where he had fucked and been fucked by anyone who caught his eye until Felix’s father had dragged him out of there. Dorian had spat the story out at him early in their relationship, half in self-loathing and half in some desperate attempt to dissuade Cullen from continuing the relationship, expecting Cullen to turn away in disgust. He had tried several things along those lines, testing Cullen, trying to drive him away, seeing just how serious Cullen was about the whole thing. Cullen had been warned that Dorian might do that by Felix so he’d stood steadfast and loving, no matter what Dorian had said. He certainly wasn’t going to falter now.

“Hawke,” he said grimly. It could only be Hawke. Hawke’s lover, Fenris, was the only other person from Tevinter they knew, other than Felix, and Fenris wasn’t fond of the Tevinter nobility. He’d probably told Hawke, hoping to undermine Dorian in some way. And, of course, only Hawke would be so ham-fisted as to actually mention such a thing in public. He’d probably thought he was being _funny_. He had a lousy sense of humour at the best of times and a blind spot a mile wide in regards to Fenris’ dislike of Dorian.

Not that Cullen actually disagreed with Fenris’ dislike of Tevinter nobility. Between what little he knew of what had happened to Fenris at the hands of a Magister called Danarius and everything he knew about Dorian’s father, he didn’t much like them either. But Fenris refused to see Dorian as being any different from Danarius, no matter what Dorian did or said. And it wasn’t as though he could have left Hawke off the invitation list for tonight. 

Dorian didn’t acknowledge his supposition that it was Hawke but the way the man looked away told him he was right. He sighed and wrapped his arm around Dorian’s waist, drawing him close. He plucked the remains of the cigarette from Dorian’s fingers and tossed it away, ignoring the protests the action got.

“If me having no standards and you having no morals resulted in, well, _us_ then I can’t say that either are a bad thing,” he said. He smiled and slid his fingers under Dorian’s chin, raising it so that his lover could see the expression on his face. He let his smile slide into the smirk that he knew Dorian adored. “Besides, I’m rather fond of your lack of morals.”

He saw how Dorian struggled against the smile his words were encouraging and then saw the moment the man gave in. Dorian buried his face in Cullen’s chest to hide the smile but Cullen knew it was there nonetheless.

“Hawke is frequently an arse without actually realising he’s _being_ an arse,” he said, running his hand through Dorian’s hair. “And Fenris has… issues. _Lots_ of issues. And a tendency to take those issues out on other people.”

He felt Dorian’s sigh and the way he shuddered as he relaxed against him. Dorian then raised his head and drew Cullen down into a kiss.

“Do we have to go back inside?” he asked.

Cullen raised an eyebrow. “I’ve spoken to everyone I needed to, so… technically no. Why?”

Dorian smirked and his eyes lit up with a salacious glee that both thrilled Cullen and had him feeling slightly apprehensive. “I thought we could go and explore my lack of morals and your lack of standards.”

Cullen drew in a sharp breath and grinned. “Let’s go.”


	63. Negotiations - Male Mage Trevelyan/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is another one from my prompt post over on tumblr. That I wrote and forgot to post. Well, it's up now. The prompt was: Drake Trevelyan/Dorian Pavus: "It is a dangerous dangerous place where morals and dignity go to die."
> 
> This is set pre-Halamshiral because, yes, Halamshiral is the place where morals and dignity go to die.
> 
> Oh, it also gets a bit naughty towards the end. ;D

Drake grumbled under his breath as he read the briefing papers Josephine had sent up about the Orlesian nobles. There were far more of them that he’d ever expected and each one was a convoluted list of dos and don’ts and dizzying familial ties that made his head spin. He knew that Josephine didn’t expect him to be able to remember all of this but even just reading it was giving him a headache.

“Problems, Amatus?”

He looked up to where Dorian was lounging on his bed, reading a series of scrolls. “Many, many problems.”

“And this one in particular?” Dorian asked, looking amused. “You’re starting to sound like a bear and I have terrible memories from the Hinterlands that you do not want to bring to the fore.”

“Halamshiral,” Drake replied.

“And what is so troublesome about the illustrious Winter Palace?”

Drake snorted. “From everything I’ve been reading, it is a dangerous, dangerous place where morals and dignity go to die.”

Dorian laughed and crawled off the bed. He sauntered over to the desk and picked up a couple of the papers, skimming over them and snorting derisively from time to time.

“Oh, this is hardly worth getting fussed over,” he said scornfully. “These people sound like amateurs compared to Tevinter nobility.”

Drake gave him a very unimpressed look. “That was spectacularly unhelpful, love. Also, not a good advertisement for Tevinter.”

“Was I supposed to be helpful?” Dorian said with a teasing look and a faint pink tinge to his cheeks that Drake ascribed to the easy endearment. Dorian still wasn’t used to that. “And _I_ am the best possible advertisement for Tevinter, thank you very much.”

“You could at least _try_ to be helpful before I drown in all of this,” Drake said, waving a hand at the papers. “And you’re a delightful advertisement. Unfortunately from what you’ve told me, you’d also be classified as false advertising.”

Dorian snickered as he slid in Drake’s lap, straddling his lover’s thighs and wrapped his hands behind the older man’s neck. “Am I being helpful now?”

“Not really,” Drake replied. His hands went to Dorian’s hips and he pulled him a little closer. “But I’m finding that my will to care about Orlesians and their politics is diminishing rapidly.”

Dorian smirked. “Good. Orlesians are overrated.”

“I dare you to tell Leliana that to her face,” Drake said then he attached his mouth to Dorian’s neck and started kissing and licking the skin there.

“Mmm,” Dorian said, tilting his head back to allow Drake better access. “I’ll pass on that.”

“Maybe I’ll tell her you said that,” Drake murmured against Dorian’s skin.

“Maybe I can convince you otherwise.”

Drake chuckled. “I _am_ open to negotiation.” Dorian rolled his hips and Drake moaned. “I’m _very_ open to negotiation.”

Dorian slid off his lap, laughing at the way Drake whined, and started sauntering towards the bed, pulling off his clothes as went. Drake watched with avid interest as he ran his hand over where his rapidly hardening cock was trapped in his breeches.

“I must say, that is an excellent opening gambit in these negotiations.”

Dorian shoved the scrolls he’d been reading off the bed and sprawled on it as he unlaced his breeches. “I’m an excellent negotiator,” he said as he ran his hand down his stomach and into his breeches.

“You definitely are.” Drake stood and started shucking off his own clothes. “And I should be a harder negotiator but really, I see this as a win-win situation so who cares?”

Dorian pulled his hand out and waved a finger. “Now, now, it’s no fun if you give in so quickly.”

Drake climbed onto the bed and put his hand where Dorian’s had recently been. Once there, he wrapped his hand around Dorian’s cock and started stroking as best as he could in the tight confines.

“Do you really care?” he breathed as he leaned in to kiss his lover.

Dorian moaned into the kiss then pulled away. “No.”

Drake laughed and began kissing his way down Dorian’s neck. “Pity I can’t run all my negotiations this way.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Dorian said as he arched languidly into Drake’s touch.

Drake licked one of Dorian’s nipples then, when he got a whine for that, drew it into his mouth and suckled lightly, drawing even more delightful noises from his lover. He let it go and rested his chin on his lover’s chest.

“Special negotiations are for Dorian alone. Check.”

“Yes,” Dorian said tartly, nudging Drake with his knee. “Now get on with it.”

Drake grinned up at him. “Your wish is my command.”


	64. Fever - Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is another one from my prompts over on tumblr. The prompt was - For the way I said “I love you” 19. With no space left between us. 
> 
> This is set post-Trespasser with both of Cullen and Dorian in Tevinter. It is also very fluffy. A little angsty but mostly very, very fluffy. :D

Dorian let himself into the bedroom with a quiet sigh of relief. The meeting with the various members of the Lucerni had gone on for longer than he’d liked and his patience had been stretched thin by the end of it. Maevaris had read him like a book, as always, and had intercepted those who had approached to ask him question and sent him on his way home. He reminded himself to do something nice for her as soon as possible.

The bedroom was dimly lit by a single candle on the bedside table. It was enough to tell him that Cullen was finally sleeping peacefully and he felt some of the tension in his body start to drain away. He walked silently over to the bed and sat down, taking the opportunity to run his hand through Cullen’s hair. The man’s face wasn’t as flushed as it had been the last few days and his temperature was certainly much lower. In fact, given that he was covered in little more than the thin sheet that nights in Tevinter required and even then it was bunched at his waist told Dorian that the fever Cullen had been suffering from had finally passed in its entirety. 

It had never occurred to him that Cullen would be so vulnerable to getting sick in Tevinter. The illness wasn’t even something he’d thought was serious at first, just a childhood disease that everyone got when they were young. He’d had it himself when he was eight. He remembered a miserable couple of weeks as he’d coughed and spluttered and whined and made his nanny’s life a misery but then he’d gotten better and that had been that. To see Cullen simply keel over the way he had, well, it had nearly made his heart stop. The healers had explained the reason it had hit Cullen so hard but he’d admit he hadn’t really been listening at that point. Cullen’s breathing had been stertorous and wet and his fever had raged to the point where Dorian had nearly despaired. Only the fact that the healer had been calm had kept him from panicking entirely.

He brushed his fingers along Cullen’s cheek, smiling a little at the short growth of beard the man now sported. He rather liked the way Cullen looked with the beard and wondered if he’d be able to convince him to keep it. He rather doubted it. The heat was hard enough on his lover as it was. He hardly needed something making him warmer.

“D’rian?” Cullen mumbled as he shifted a little.

“Hush, Amatus,” Dorian said, running his hand through the other man’s hair again in a soothing manner. “Go back to sleep.”

He wasn’t surprised when Cullen didn’t listen to him and instead forced himself to wake up a bit more. He smiled gently as Cullen shifted so that he was curled around him a little and let his hand run down the man’s back.

“The meeting?” Cullen asked around a yawn.

“Was fine.” Dorian leaned over and kissed Cullen’s temple before standing and starting to remove his clothing. “Overly long but fine. Some of the youngsters were fretting.”

He dropped his clothing into the hamper Cullen had insisted on keeping the room. ‘To make things easier for the servants’ had been his reasoning. Dorian had complained that what was the point of having servants if they didn’t pick up after you and had been greeted with one of Cullen’s more unimpressed looks. So, the hamper had been bought and placed in the room. He stripped off his smalls and tossed them in after the rest of his clothes and turned around to find Cullen watching him with a smirk and more than a little interest in his eyes.

“Oh no, Amatus,” he said with a chuckle that was more relieved than anything else. He’d spent far too many days seeing only dull disinterest in those gorgeous eyes to not be anything other than relieved to see life in them once again. “Your healer has given strict instructions about _rest_.”

He climbed into the bed and pulled Cullen towards him. His lover came willing, curling up against him until there was no space between them. Dorian wrapped his arms around Cullen and brushed his lips against his forehead. They were both naked but Dorian felt no arousal at having all of Cullen’s warm skin pressed against him. Oh, he _would_ if he allowed his thoughts to go in that direction but right now, all he wanted was to know that Cullen was… if not well then at least recovering.

“Sure about that?” Cullen murmured, nuzzling against the side of his face.

Dorian hummed at the unusual scratch of Cullen’s beard. “I am not bringing the wrath of your healer down upon both of us.” He kissed the end of Cullen’s nose before saying very dryly, “Besides, I would be very surprised if you could actually get it up, Amatus.”

Cullen gave a soft laugh. “You might be right there.” 

He sighed and snuggled a bit closer to Dorian, if that was even possible. On his part, Dorian simply tightened his embrace and sent a paean of thanks to the Maker that this illness hadn’t been any worse.

“How are you feeling?”

Cullen huffed. “Terrible. But better than I was.” He paused for a moment. “How long?”

Dorian didn’t even try to pretend he didn’t know what Cullen was asking. “Five days. You’ve been feverish for five days.” 

His voice wavered then broke on those last words and he drew in a shuddering breath as he fought for control. A few tears escaped despite his best efforts and Cullen kissed them away as he made soothing noises and rubbed Dorian’s back.

“I didn’t think you’d get so ill,” Dorian whispered once he’d gotten himself back under control. “It’s a _child’s_ disease.”

“Which we don’t get down south,” Cullen said with a weary chuckle. “Those sorts of things always hit adults harder than children.”

“That’s what the healer said,” Dorian replied, knowing he sounded sullen but unable to stop himself.

“I’m _fine_ , love,” Cullen said then when Dorian scoffed, he sighed and conceded the point. “I will be fine.”

He yawned and nuzzled into Dorian a bit more. Dorian ran his hand through his hair and for the first time in days, let himself believe Cullen was going to be okay. Then he remembered the thing he’d promised himself he’d do if Cullen recovered. He bit his lip then cradled Cullen’s face in his hands, raising his head so that he could look him in the eye.

“I love you,” he said. He was surprised to find that the words weren’t as difficult to say as he’d thought they would be. In fact, they’d been positively _easy_ to say. He smiled with relief. “I love you.”

Cullen gave him a quizzical look then chuckled and kissed him. “I love you too.”

Dorian laughed as well and pulled Cullen close again. Cullen didn’t complain and Dorian felt his lover yawn again. 

“Go to sleep, Amatus,” he said warmly. Who knew that the words he’d always felt were an insurmountable obstacle would turn out to be little more than the barest pothole in the road? 

He didn’t realise he’d said those words out loud until Cullen laughed softly and said, “You’ve been calling me beloved since before we went to Halamshiral. You think I didn’t know how you felt? I never needed the words, Dorian, I just needed you.”

Dorian felt a bit stunned. “How long have you known?”

“What Amatus means?” Cullen gave a huff of a laugh. “I asked Krem after we got back from Halamshiral. He grinned at me and snickered a lot but he told me.” He pressed a kiss against Dorian’s cheek. “But I like hearing it. Anytime you want to do it again, I’m all for it.”

“Insufferable man,” Dorian huffed. “Go to sleep or your healer with have both our heads.” He waited until Cullen’s breathing evened out again then whispered, “I love you.”

Such beautiful words, ones he once would have thought carried a weight that would drown him. Now, though, they were the best words in the world.


End file.
